


The Silver Lake

by Sci3ntific



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Friendship, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sci3ntific/pseuds/Sci3ntific
Summary: Hermione notices that her best friend, Harry isn't looking merry for an occasion like Christmas. So she corners him and eventually he tells her his reasons. His reasoning gives her the passion to make this his best Christmas ever.What she didn't know was that they would grow closer over the hols and find things that help them face the dangers of Voldemort.Warning: Rated M
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 124
Collections: Christmas With Harmony 2020





	1. Chapter I - Snowy Morning Blues

November was at an end today, and everyone knew that Christmas was just around the corner. It was like an unspoken rule that traveled the ancient walls of the magical school that one should know that Christmas was here when November ended, and December started. There was just something about the month of December that just screamed Christmas, snow, muffins and beanies, presents, and candy canes that no one could ignore that Christmas was here. The fact that just yesterday there was just a snowstorm and snow was still falling today, only heightened the excitement. It was as if even the castle was excited and merry, sending off an aura of joy and bliss. Yes, Christmas was here, and everyone was merry.

Everyone except one Harry Potter that is.

They say Christmas was all about the memories, the happy ones with friends and family. The thing is with Harry Potter, he didn't have a family, nor did he have happy Christmas memories he could think of. While the three Christmases before now was filled with presents from the Weasleys and his best friend Hermione Granger, it didn't feel right. The Weasleys were the closest to a family that he'd ever got, but they were too pushy, too noisy, and too fussy - especially on Mrs. Weasley's part.

What he imagined Christmas to be like with his family was a cozy living room, with snow falling outside, a Christmas tree laden with presents, the room nice and cozy with the fireplace alit, and his parents and him, watching some sort of Wizarding or Muggle program on a television or some Wizarding Technology thingymajig. He didn't want redhead twins blowing their sausages up, Ron Weasley's terrible etiquette, Molly Weasley's fussing, Arthur Weasley's questions about the muggle world, or Ginny Weasley looking at him like he was a piece of meat. 

And to add to that, Christmases before that, included him being left in his cupboard while the Dursleys shoved turkey and chicken and candy canes down their throats, where the only thing Christmasy was the television Christmas special that he could only hair, and his first Christmas gift was Dudley's torn teddy bear. So basically, Harry Potter didn't enjoy Christmas, at least he wasn't looking forward to it, but there it was, in all its glory. As students walked around cheerfully and exchanges hugs and kisses, putting on skating shoes to skate on the frozen Black Lake, he was here, in an alcove in the Gryffindor Common Room, looking at them with a frown on his face.

This Christmas seemed to be one of the worst ones yet it appeared. To begin with, he was unwillingly made a TriWizard Champion on Halloween at the beginning of the term, which made him edgy and didn't exactly set the right Christmas mood for him, then, he had to fight the complete opposite of snow, a fire-breathing dragon, and now, he had to find a date for the inevitable Yule Ball. Because this TriWizard Tournament was different, mostly because of him and a little because of the age restriction, another part of the tournament had been altered. Usually, the TriWizard Tournament held a Yule Ball on Christmas Day, but the Department of Magical Games and Hogwarts had come to an agreement to hold the event two days before school reopened. The reason being that those fourth years and above wouldn't be able to spend Christmas with their families. Dumbledore was being as thoughtful as ever and explained to the Great Hall on the morning before Christmas break started that students can return home to their families in December, spend Christmas with their families and return to Hogwarts on December 28th. On December 29th, the Yule Ball would be held, and on January 1st, school would reopen.

Of course, those who didn't have to go back would stay in Hogwarts, as usual. Harry knew Ron was going back home. Ron was talking for hours and hours about how Charlie was returning home for the entire Christmas break with a dragon egg that he had to look after, and Ron, of course, volunteered to help Charlie as much as he could. Harry had been invited, but he turned it down. Honestly, after being the prey for a dragon - a Hungarian Horntail no less - he didn't exactly want to rumble with another one. And he could do without the Weasley family's blatant nosiness right now. so he turned down the offer, Ron looked disappointed but said nothing otherwise.

He didn't feel the Christmas spirit right now. And apparently, only one person realized that.

Hermione Granger was ever the observant one. She figured that she grasped this trait because of focusing too much during classes back in primary school when she had to spot the differences in those kids' books. In hindsight, that was rather ridiculous of her - silly, really. But excluding the silliness and childishness, it was highly beneficial. For instance, she could always tell whenever Ron was trying to cheat off her homework by the red of his ears and the guilty cough, she could tell when Lavender Brown had a new boyfriend by the giggles and touching her lips while dreamily sighing, but most importantly, she could always tell when something was wrong with Harry. He wouldn't pay attention, he would trail off his sentences, he would always look downcast and forlorn as he rubbed the back of his neck as a nervous gesture and he would look vulnerable and ... afraid.

Harry Potter was one of her best friends and she knew him better more than anyone else. She was sure that not even Mrs. Weasley knew as much as she did. Harry was also the strongest, most loyal, and kind-hearted person she even knew, so when he looked so vulnerable, so much like the shy kid he had first come here as she had to find out why. She knew little of his past, something that greatly bothered her. From what she knew though, he didn't have the best of childhoods with the Dursleys. Every time his relatives were brought up, he looked so lost, so scared, so vulnerable, but he refused to say anything on the matter. It was a trait of his that she didn't like.

The boy in question had already had a horrid year with the Triwizard Tournament, and considering everything that happened to him before, like his parents' death, Quirrelmort, the Basilisk, and the Dementors, his life was quite unfair, to say the least. Outside, he put up a strong demeanor, one that persuaded others that he was alright, that everything was alright, that his life's events hadn't affected him, but fortunately Hermione Granger wasn't like most others.

Harry was currently at the little alcove at the end of the Gryffindor Common Room hugging a pillow from one of the couches to his chest, looking as forlorn as she had ever seen her. She wondered why. Looking where he was looking as she came up beside him, she frowned in recognition. Harry was now looking at the Weasley family's traditional snowball fight that looked quite violent but still fun and cheerful from their point of view. Christmas was a time for family, Harry didn't have any. She internally sighed and rested a hand on his knee, which was pulled up to his chest, the pillow the only interference between the two body parts. 

He jumped, startled by the sudden interference but visibly relaxed as he caught sight of Hermione, was frowning at him, even though her sudden appearance was startling, she knew that Harry was jumpy for a whole different reason. She had only heard of Harry's nightmares, but they seemed to be affecting him more than he let on. Harry sheepishly offered her his best smile as he made space by his feet for her to sit, she complied. 

Harry gulped as he watched Hermione watch him with a thoughtful gaze, but eventually, she was the one who broke the silence. "Harry," she said cautiously, "Harry, what's wrong?"

He smiled at her ever-present concern for his well-being, "Nothing's wrong, Hermione. Why would you think something's wrong?"

Hermione's lips thin and she gave the best impression of Professor McGonagall looking at him from above her glasses with a quirked eyebrow, "Let's see..." She held out her hand and counted her fingers as she spoke, "One, you're brooding. Two, you sighed so heavily while looking outside during your brooding. Three you have that frown on your face. Four, whenever - "

"Alright, alright, Hermione, I get it!" He said hastily, he wasn't quite in the mood to have his brooding traits described to him - not that he was brooding of course! 

"So, you admit it then?" His best friend asked. She wore a smirk, although a playful one, one that she wore when she thought she won one of their playful banters, that was so unlike hers and Ron's which often just left Hermione in tears or her storming off.

"I admit nothing," Harry replied, his voice just as playful as hers, though his smirk - in her opinion - was quite charming if she does say so herself.

Hermione's demeanor changed drastically and she was suddenly looking at him worriedly and with such great affection that Harry gulped inwardly. Why she worried about him as much as she usually does, he would never know. While she worried over him as much as Mrs. Weasley usually did, she was more subtle about it and differently less fussy and pushy.

Her hugs were definitely better and stronger than Mrs. Weasley's as well. 

Hermione sighed, he could be so damn difficult at many times. So stubborn! Well, she was just as stubborn, but that didn't matter right now! "Harry James Potter..." She said with another McGonagall look, though, with a little playfulness in her voice, "If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm never going to speak with you ever again." She got up folded her arms and walked towards the nearest couch and sat down plumply. She showed even more maturity by sticking her tongue out at him.

Harry sighed, "Hermione..." He said. But she ignored him. He sighed again and walked over to her. For some reason, her silence towards him greatly upset him. It reminded him horrendously about how low he stooped in their friendship back in their third year over a broom. 

He sat down next to her, and he inwardly smirked when he saw that her cheeks were red. It was widely known that Hermione Granger was not only smarter for her age, but also, mature and more independent, so, to see her acting so childishly was - while funny - unusual to him, and probably embarrassing to her. She did have a quite cute pout, however.

"Alright, ask away, and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability," He said to her. A smile tugged at her lips as she unfolded her arms and hopped up to turn and face him, her legs folding under her as he says Indian style.

"Promise, Harry?" She asked. 

"Promise, Hermione."

"Okay then, good." She nodded approvingly, looking highly pleased that her plan had worked. "What's wrong?"

Harry visibly hesitated. His reluctance clogging his vocal cords as he tried to find the right words. "Argh!" He relented, "I've never had a good Christmas before at the Dursleys, Hermione. While I did get better Christmasses at Hogwarts from the first year, they weren't... they weren't - they weren't exactly me if you know what I mean.

"I appreciate Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Weasley's hospitality and care, but it isn't what I expected - it isn't what I want my family to be like. I haven't had a family - a real one - to know what Christmasses really are like, but I have this gut feeling that if my parents were alive, they wouldn't have celebrated the Christmasses holidays like the Weasley's have.

"I guess... I guess... - I guess I'd just like to experience a Christmas like it would have been if I was with my parents." He finished. He angrily wiped away the tears that were forming, angry that he had gotten emotional in front of Hermione. 

He was surprised beyond belief when she threw her hands around him, her own tears wetting his neck and collar."Oh, Harry," she moaned through her tears, "Oh, Harry, why'd it have to be you? It surprises me day after day that you're the way you are. People - especially children - who would have gone through what you have, would have already given up! I'm so sorry, Harry!"

Harry awkwardly patted her back with one hand, the other rubbing her shoulders, trying to soothe her. "It's - it's okay, Hermione. It's not your fault. It never has been."

She pulled back and she was angry that she got emotional, just like he had been a few minutes ago. After her tears were mostly gone, she looked into his eyes with such passion, that Harry was rendered speechless momentarily. "No," She said. "In a sense, it is partially my fault. Harry I've been your friend for four years, and I consider you my best friend. As your best friend I should have made sure that you don't feel the way you are, but I've done a real piss-poor job of that."

"Hermione..." Harry tried to interrupt, but Hermione interrupted him back.

"No, Harry," she said, "I won't allow this to happen again. I'll be going home for Christmas hols, and you're coming with me!"

It was an order. Not a request. And Harry had no choice but to be quiet while Hermione ran off to write to her parents. He wasn't angry though, he was ecstatic.


	2. Chapter II - Temper, Trains and Togetherness

Hermione's parents didn't take long to reply. Harry figured that it was because they used his trusty familiar, Hedwig, who was as fast as any owl could possibly get, and so much better than the school owls that took ages to reach their destination, to deliver their letters. Just as Hermione has predicted, they had said yes to her request – well, after he read the letter Hermione sent to her parents, the ‘request’ was rather demanding. He figured that Hermione’s parents were used to her general bossiness.

It was one of the aspects of Hermione that Harry never wanted to change. The loyalty and concern she always showed for him, was more than he had ever received from anyone else. And while he was sure that his mother would care for him and be concerned when something was wrong with him, Hermione's concern made him feel elated. It was probably because he had never felt so much concern and admiration for him radiating from one person. Yes, Mrs. Weasley was always concerned about him, but it was always fussy and pushy and too motherly, it only reminded him what he could have had if his parents were alive.

Hermione’s loyalty too was something to behold. Her unwavering, ever-present, loving presence and loyalty was always around him, like a tree that firmly planted its roots in the soil with no intention of moving. He loved it. All of it. Her presence always made him feel giddy and important. And cared for. And - and loved for.

Love.

He was told by Hermione that her parents already love,d him from everything that she told them about him. He knew that Hermione meant it as a compliment, part of him _did_ take it as a compliment, yes, but, he also felt a little pressured. They obviously had expectations for him, so he wanted to be perfect for them when the 13th arrived. He brushed his teeth twice, remembering Hermione explaining that her parents were dentists when they were having their chats - chats that were becoming rather frequent and enjoyable for both of them. He took a bath twice as well, sprayed some perfume, and tried to comb his hair, which got as close as it possibly could to 'neat and tidy', no wonder he always got 1/5 for ‘Appearance and Tidiness’ in Primary school. Well, considering Dudley's baggy clothes, he could imagine why. He wiped his hand on the side of his trousers _again_. He had chosen to wear blue trousers with his Weasley jumper. He had gotten his trousers when he was eleven years old, when Dudley wasn't as fat as he was now. So, you could say that he had grown into it over the years, in fact, it was probably the best fitting piece of clothing that he had. He was sure that the colour on the thighs of his trousers would fade in a few minutes, judging from how much his new-found nervous gesture was wetting the pants colour and almost smearing it.

He was in the Gryffindor Common Room, where only some students remained inside – the younger ones. While the older ones, who were generally third years and above, had either gone to Hogsmeade - which was most likely - or out in the snowy Hogwarts' grounds for a cold stroll. His battered trunk was next to him, and Hedwig's empty cage. Hedwig had opted to fly the way there, and Harry didn't mind, he didn't know whether or not, the Granger parents would lock Hedwig in his cage – like the Dursleys had done before.

He scolded himself, these were the two people who had forged Hermione Granger into what she was today: smart, discipline, beauti...pretty (he blushed) and so caring. Of course, they would be wonderful.

But still.

He couldn't help but feel wary, given his past experience with adults. But Hermione would be there, she always was and he was sure she never would leave. Her almost uncanny loyalty was unwavering. Something he couldn't exactly say to another one of his best friends. Speaking of the devil... a certain redhead seemed to have come down the dormitory steps without Harry noticing and was standing right in front of him.

"Harry?" Said the redhead quizzically, "Where are you going? I thought you didn't want to come to Romania with us - that's no problem, though, I'm sure mum wouldn't mind and I certainly wouldn't either!" He said as he relaxed a little. Harry tried to interrupt, but his interruption was interrupted. "Why didn't you just tell me you were going with us?" Asked Ron with a chortle as he plumped down into the couch with a bounce, "If you think that this counts as a Christmas gift then you have something else coming your way, Harry. Bloody hilarious, but next time why don't you -"

"Ron!" Harry said forcefully, overriding the voice of the Youngest Weasley son at its best. The redhead stopped speaking, clearly as startled and confused as Harry was at the force of the voice. "Ron..." Harry said, this time, though, with a much calmer voice, "Ron," he repeated, "I'm not going to Romania with you guys, in fact, I'm not going to Romania at all," He explained.

"You're not?" Ron asked incredulously. Harry shook his head. "Then where are you going? Surely you're not going back to the Dursleys, Harry, you must be mental if –"

"He's going home with me!" A new voice announced. And like a moth to a flame, Harry was drawn to the angelic voice that was Hermione's and he bit back a huge grin. Merlin, she _was_ beautiful. She was walking down the stairs to the Girl's Dormitory, her hand on the banner with a thin-lipped, jaw-clenched glare that was directed to one Ronald Weasley. She wore nicely fitting blue jeans, more vibrant than his, and a red and golden jumper, which would have been mistaken for a Hogwarts attire if there was a Hogwarts Badge on it.

She spared him a glace. A glance that made his heart flutter when he noticed that her glare instantly softened as a small smile pulled at her lips. It was gone quickly, though, and replaced with her previous glare. Fortunately, it was enough for Harry to feel warm and giddy inside, but, unfortunately, it was enough for Ron to see as well. His anger grew quite quickly, and the red from his hair spread to his ears, and eventually, he was true to his name.

"What do you mean Harry's going home with _you_?" Ron asked, seemingly scandalized. The way he said 'you' it would sound as if she was dirt. Something that made Harry's heart warm enough until it burnt, this time with anger, and not happiness.

"It suggests exactly what you hear, Ronald," Hermione said and came more into view, it was then Harry saw that she was levitating a trunk with her. "Harry James Potter will be staying with Hermione Jean Po...G-Granger for the Christmas Holidays," she exclaimed, her face red with anger, but more importantly embarrassment. Luckily, no one noticed her slip.   
"B-B-But!" Seeing that he didn't really have anything against Hermione at the moment, Ron turned to the other person in this conversation-turned-argument so he could lash out his anger at him. "Really, Harry, you could've just told me! You didn't have to say that you wouldn't like Romania just because you were going with Hermione! You didn't have to lie!"

Harry tried to remain calm, but he was slowly losing his temper as it was. He understood a little bit why Ron was acting this way, but Ron didn't need to talk about Hermione like she was some piece of dirt on the floor, or as if she wasn't standing right there. "I didn't lie, Ron, it was just the other day when we made plans, and you were always busy doing something! With all the things in mind right now, the tournament, the dreams about Voldemort, the golden egg, it just slipped my mind!"

"Pfft!" Ron scoffed and folded his arms. It reminded Harry distinctly of how Lavender Brown stood, Ron even had his waist tilted and everything! "I thought our friendship meant more, Harry, but apparently it doesn't!"

Hermione saw red. How dare him! "You're the one in this friendship who should understand that, Ronald. You left Harry over jealousy, bloody jealousy, Ronald! And now you're arguing with us that we should have told you when you never made time for us. I can believe you have the audacity to - "

"Oh, shut up, you hag!" Ron snapped, "You're the one to talk about audacity, when you have the audacity to be Harry's friend for his mon - "

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, Ron," the venom in his voice surprised himself to an extent, but he paid no mind to it. He noted with satisfaction that Ron seemed generally scared, while Hermione came to stand by him, her thighs and shoulders brushing his. Ron was no longer seeing his best friend Harry Potter. He was seeing the boy who defeated Voldemort twice, who fought Basilisks, Dementors and Dragons. "Leave, and take our friendship with you, because it's finished."

"But, Harry, you can't possibly choose this - " Ron began.

"Leave..." Turns out that mixing Parseltongue with your normal English was quite terrifying. Ron stood there, shocked for a moment, before he glared at the pair venomously, huffed, folded his hands and stomped back into his dormitory. As soon as the dorm door was locked (slammed) Harry dropped into his seat his head in his hands. A few seconds later, Hermione dropped beside him, her hands circled around his upper torso as she rested her chin on his back.

"I can't believe the bloody bastard!" Harry hissed, and wasn't surprised when Hermione scolded him for his language despite everything that happened. "I thought he was our friend, Hermione, I thought he was our _best friend_."

Hermione hesitated a little before she answered _her_ best friend, "W-Well, maybe he still is, you know how Ron is, he's the type of person - "

"He's the type of person, when push comes to shove, will choose his desires over his best friends; who would choose royalty over loyalty," Harry interrupted her in such a manner, that she was rendered speechless. He had never really said anything so... so deep. It was so endearing, so intellectual... so... attractive. Hermione was glad that Harry couldn't see her, because she was sure she was as red as the ripest tomato planted on the most nutritious piece of land.

"That was so hot – I mean - intellectual, Harry," she told him, her voice unusually squeaky and breathless. Harry didn't seem to notice. She inwardly sighed in relief.

"It's the truth, and I can't continue this anymore," Harry continued, "If Ron does come to his senses, and properly, without a half-arsed apology, I will forgive him - only if you do first, though," he added quickly, "But until then, until he can pull his foot out of his arse, I refuse to be his friend. If that's okay with you?" He turned to her.

"You won't hear any complaint from me, Harry. I could do without the bickering and yelling - and besides, you're much better company," she admitted, he grinned at her. His green eyes holding her brown ones captive before they heard a yell worthy of Lee Jordon - oh, wait. _It was Lee Jordon_.

"The Hogwarts Express will be leaving in ten minutes, McGonagall says. So hurry your bloody arses out of here, whoever wants to go home!" The overexcited Quidditch commentator yelled to the Gryffindors. Quickly, everyone got up, either heading for their bags in their dormitories, or to the portrait hole to leave. Harry was up in an instant, and he picked up his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and slung it over his back, his hand holding it in place behind his shoulder, while the other hand grabbed Hermione's trunk.

"Harry, you don't have to," Hermione said as she picked up Crookshanks and placed him in his cage.

"I want to," Harry said firmly, and with a spark of passion in his eyes, that Hermione couldn't seem to disagree with. She nodded numbly, her hair falling forward to cover her blush. Why were his green eyes so majestic!?

The arrived at Hogsmeade Station quickly with the help of the Horseless Carriages, and soon, the Hogwarts Express was departing Hogsmeade Station and towards the magical Platform of Nine and Three Quarters. Harry and Hermione shared a compartment with each other, soon being joined by a shy Neville Longbottom. They spoke about their plans for the holidays for a while, a little bit about school and soon they were in a comfortable silence, with the only sounds the train on the tracks, the occasional hoot of the train's horn and chatter in the closer compartments. The only interruption was Ron entering the compartment, glaring at them all, especially Neville, and leaving. It forced Harry and Hermione to tell their friend of what happened that morning.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters came into view sometime after the interruption and they were already taking down their luggage when the train finally jerked to a stop. Which was probably a bad idea. When the train jerked to a stop, Hermione and Harry jerked with it and it ended with Hermione straddling Harry, her hands on his chest.

Soon, blushing teens, who were trying to forget their embarrassment of such a compromising position while simultaneously inwardly cursing Neville Longbottom from breaking their moment with an awkward cough, disembarked the train. They passed through the barrier, where Hermione began to look for her parents.

"Mum, Dad!" Forgetting their earlier embarrassment, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him towards the nice looking couple standing by the wall of Platform Nine with grins on their faces. When she was close enough, Hermione let Harry's hand go and threw her arms around both her parents, who returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.

“Well, she had to learn that from somewhere,” Harry murmured as he pulled their luggage closer to the couple who were expressing their relief for finally being reunited with their daughter. They hugged and Hermione kissed both of their cheeks before she glanced at him and murmured something to her parents. Obviously she was speaking about him, because they turned to him with warm smiles on their faces, and Harry couldn’t help but feel nervous, despite Hermione’s constant reassurances in Hogwarts and in the train and her presence.

“Hello, Harry, Hermione’s told us a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you.” Hermione’s mother introduced herself first to him and she seemed warm and delightful, thus, easing his uneasiness a _little_ bit.

He stuck out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Granger. Hermione’s told me a lot about you as well.” Hermione’s mother, though, had different plans and completely disregarded his offered hand, to stoop down and grab him into a hug so much similar to Hermione’s, yet, totally different. He stiffened. Unable to help the reflexive impulse that acted on its own accord after years of adults mistreating him. Mrs. Granger seemed to notice and she released him, a bit startled, but not to show such. She glanced at her daughter. She was looking mightily angry and upset about something as she gazed sadly at the young man frozen in front of them. A talk was sure to be in order.

Mr. Granger was different from his wife. While Hermione had gotten her hair from her mother, she had gotten her father’s eyes, which was rather the opposite of Harry’s ‘father’s look, but mother’s eyes’ thing that he had. He seemed warm though, but he had an easy grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. The man walked up to Harry and stuck out his hand, “Hello, Harry,” he said.

But Harry had frozen. Mrs. Granger he had took the risk with, but here was a man, who looked completely different from Vernon Dursley, but was still a man, who was looking down at him, his hand ready for an action, even if that action was shaking hands. He was younger again, Uncle Vernon above him with his hand prepared for a slap, a punch, anything that could hurt him. He was broken out of his inner paranoia when Mr. Granger laughed and turned to Hermione and said, “Thought someone as brilliant as you would pick a smarter friend, Hermione, he doesn’t seem to understand words.”

Mr. Granger had a chortle at the end, and it was meant as a joke, but Harry flushed in embarrassment and sadness. Both Hermione and her mother rolled their eyes at the Granger man’s joke, but scolded him for its horror when they saw Harry’s expression. Mr. Granger chuckled nervously, and in an attempt to divert the awkwardness that had settled offered to return to their car. The group nodded and they continued their walk out of King’s Cross Station.

“Don’t worry about Dad, Harry, he’s absolutely horrid at making jokes. He didn’t mean what he said,” Hermione told Harry. Seeing that he wasn’t accepting it fully she bumped shoulders with him, “Besides, you’re _sometimes_ as smart as me…”

Harry looked up to her incredulously, “No one could be as smart as you, Hermione.”

She blushed, “Well… anyway, don’t take Dad on, mum and I sure to have a few words with him back home.” Harry chuckled. He _had_ been feeling bad, but whit Hermione here, things always seemed to be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone!


	3. Chapter III - Trouble Sleeping?

The bedroom seemed like too much to him, compared to what he was used to, namely a cupboard and a tiny bedroom. It seemed like such a blank potential canvas that was waiting on him to paint it – just, he didn't know how to paint or what to paint. He laid in bed and stared out to the roof. The bed was comfortable. How… different. The room wasn't locked. How… strange. He didn't feel suffocated, locked up and heavy-hearted, and didn't felt an absence in his abdomen… peculiar.

He turned again, the bed was queen sized. Large obviously, probably literally ten times the size of the bed he used to sleep in before. It was all so different, so unusual, so out of place, that the simplest feature in the room, like a window that wasn't barred, made him feel so privileged. He turned again. For some reason, despite all the great things that were happening to him as an actual dinner that wasn't prepared nor served by him, it felt so oddly out of place, so unusual.

He wanted to sleep so badly, but he was scared. Scared that, if he woke up in the morning, he would find out that this was all just one big, silly dream that his mind decided to make up. He turned. Again. But when his eyes wandered to the glass window on the wall and he gasped. The snow was falling right outside the window and he felt entranced to watch it. Back at the Dursleys, he could barely see anything from the stained glass window he had, but here, he could clearly see everything. He got up, slowly and steadily, careful not to awake the others as he approached the window. He turned when he was near, silently and with grace that he didn't know he possessed, grabbed the chair under the desk and turned it to the window, the chair's back pressed against the wall under the glass, as he straddled it and placed his arms crossly on the top of the chair's back, resting his chin on top of it. He leaned out and turned his head to the side.

There was only one word to describe the scene. Beautiful. But he wasn't talking about the snow or anything concerning the surroundings, he was talking about the girl at her window, leaning out with eyes closed, her chin resting in her palms, a content smile on her face. Hermione was such a beautiful witch. A witch he admired until she suddenly turned to him with a deep blush.

'Harry!' She mouthed, 'What are you doing?' He had a sudden jolt of an idea as he mouthed 'wait' and rushed in back the room, grabbing a pen and piece of parchment. He rushed back to the window and peered outside to make sure that Hermione was still there.

She was. And she waved shyly at him. He grinned and quickly, he scribbled down 'I could ask the same thing about you' on the parchment, scrunched it up into a ball of parchment, and promptly threw it to her. She surprisingly caught it with ease that looked like it surprised even herself – he didn't take Hermione as a sports person. She bit her lip as she opened the ball of parchment and read it, a motion that Harry couldn't help but watch with dazed eyes and parted lips, how wonderful and soft they looked.

SMACK!

The ball of parchment returned out of nowhere and hit him straight on the nose. He looked at the culprit, who looked simultaneously smug, embarrassed, and amused. He was sure that his face mirrored her embarrassment. He looked down into the snow, snow that was slowly covering the ball of parchment that had fallen, he looked back at Hermione's window, and she was gone. But he could just make out the tips of her fingers on the side of the wall. He narrowed his eyes, something felt fishy. Suddenly, she was back, a smirk on her face that made Harry shiver, but not from the cold. Then, there were parchments being thrown at him, balls of them straight in his nose, glasses, foreheads, everything. When he peeked open one eye, he saw that she was still there, but hands empty with a smirk on her face.

'That's how it is?' He asked her with his mouth movements.

'That's how it is,' she mouthed back.

Harry smirked, and he could see Hermione's falter for a moment before she cleverly covered it up with a fake cough, 'Oh, it's on!' He mouthed to her. Her smirk turned into a really un-Hermione-like, mischievous smile that made him gulp.

Telling himself that his heart was racing because he was just excited to get back at Hermione, Harry ran back to the table, getting all kinds of scraps of paper and parchment and making them into balls in his closed fist.

He got his bookbag, emptied the contents onto the table with unbelievable quietness, and refilled the bag with his paper balls. He walked to the window again, a few paper balls in his hands and slowly he peeked outside to see if Hermione was there.

But she wasn't there.

There was a sinking feeling in his chest as he breathed out a deep, pained sigh. Did he do something wrong? Did he commit something that she didn't approve of? Did he say – or rather, mouth – something that aggravated her and caused her to leave? It was only his first night here, and he had an overwhelming feeling within him, that told him that he had already done something wrong. Would they kick him out? Would they shun him? They wouldn't do that, they were nice people and he was probably just being as paranoid as ever.

Hands slid around his waist and he stiffened automatically before he smelled the wonderful scent of Hermione. A pleasurable and wonderfully intoxicating smell of strawberry shampoo and toothpaste. Her chin rested on his shoulder and he fought the urge to turn and look at her.

"Trouble sleeping?" She asked him. He numbly nodded. She rested her head in the middle of his shoulder blades and it seemed that she wanted to burrow herself in there. He wouldn't mind anyway. He looked outside to the falling snow illuminated by the street lights, it was beautiful, and the young woman holding him was beautiful. He didn't want anything to change. This was it, this was what he wanted. What he thought Christmas should be like. He turned in her hands, and she was there, beaming at him with the brightest smile. She leaned forward, and he was entranced, determined to lean back in.

Three inches.

Two.

One.

Their lips touched.

And his eyes snapped open.

His eyes were wide awake, his breath shaky and his heart beating miles per hour. This was what happened after he had nightmares, but the dream that he just had was the complete opposite. And he was sure that if he ever had a similar dream, he would never want to wake up.


	4. Chapter IV - Christmas is in the Air

The HMS Harmony Christmas Challenge's Due Date was yesterday, the day before (Christmas Day (Merry Christmas!)) and I started this story quite shortly, so I guess I'm late. This will still continue, however.

Chapter IV – Christmas is in the Air

The morning came faster than he thought it would, but he didn't exactly mind. Especially, because of the way he was awoken. Hermione had been an early-riser. He speculated she had before because she was always fresh and awake when he and Ron had just awoken, but here was proof that she was. And blimey, she was energetic. She was over him as he opened his eyes, bouncing on his bed with the brightest smile on her face – a smile he could see, even without his glasses. Bouncing, she was chanting: "Wake up, Harry. Wake up!" and he was sure that this was the most energetic and childish he had ever seen Hermione act – even overpowering the cute pouting act that got him to spill his brooding reasons to her.

And then, she slipped, and she fell. Right on top of him and he was hit with the reminder of his dream with her last night, the one where they had kissed – not that he didn't have any other dreams of her! His eyes fell to her lips. They were puffy and slightly apart as she breathed through them in exhaustion and he was once reminded of his vivid dream, the fact that he wanted to kiss those very same lips.

With some effort – more than some, to be quite honest – his eyes were pulled back to her eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes of endless, beautiful colour that he loved about her. The looks she gave him, the words they spoke without a single verse uttered. He loved that. Loved the way they were connected and in sync, that they knew most about each other – at least Hermione knew most about him. He wasn't sure if he knew that much about her. Something he was more than willing to change.

"Morning, Harry," She said, oddly breathless, and he caught the slight scent of her morning breath. Morning breath that didn't make him recoil as Dudley's had – it was actually kind of endearing – in a weird sort of way. But he liked it.

"Morning," He whispered back to her. His voice was just as breathless, but more gruff than usual, showing signs of what really his age was. Her eyes darted to his lips and his darted hers, they parted slightly, and he caught sight of the pinkness that was her tongue that darted out to lick her lips moistening them. He felt entranced to do the same. They were leaning in again, just like they had in the dream.

"Harry, Hermione, breakfast!" Mrs. Granger – Jean as she told Harry to call her – called from where Harry assumed to be the kitchen – or maybe the dining room. They snapped out of whatever they were in and Hermione coughed then giggled.

"Get changed!" She whispered into his ears, and then, in one quick motion, she pecked his left cheek and ran out of the room. Harry barely caught sight of her deep blush, a blush he was sure that he mirrored thoroughly.

He shook his head, and chuckled to himself, but otherwise did as Hermione told him to do. He was running mad – Merlin Hermione was running him mad.

Jean was a miracle worker in the kitchen, Harry was sure. Her bacon and egg sandwich that she had prepared for him had been the best he had ever eaten – not that he had anything much to compare it to – other than Hogwarts' and his own. She had been kind when she saw him and so had Mr. Granger – Johnathon, or John for short. But Harry was still guarded around him, he wasn't as comfortable as he was when around the warmth called Jean Granger. Mr. Granger had mentioned that Harry could call him John, but Harry didn't feel entitled to it.

He hoped no one noticed his reluctance – or rather, hesitation – when it came to Mr. Granger, but someone did, and surprisingly it wasn't Hermione – or at least, Hermione didn't mention anything. Jean didn't mention anything either per se, but by the look she cast him, he knew that she knew.

Jean hadn't only noticed his behavior it seemed, something she brought up at breakfast.

"No offense Harry, but your clothes are rather ghastly," she exclaimed as she put down her own bacon and egg sandwich. Hermione had been eating and her sandwich suddenly dropped onto the plate – thankfully not from a height though – as she glanced nervously between her mother and her best friend. Mr. Granger was peering down at him from the top of his – daily, Hermione mentioned – newspaper.

Harry automatically glanced at his clothes that did match Jean's description – not that he ever doubted the fact though. He looked back at the Granger family, suddenly nervous at being the center of attention, "Err, no offense taken Mrs. – err – Jean. These are hand-me-downs that I got for my last birthday."

Jean gasped, Hermione growled and Mr. Granger gaped. Merlin, he hated being at the center of attention. Jean shook her head, and gave her daughter a look, "Hermione!" She suddenly exclaimed, "Come with me please, there's something I need you to look at!"

Not waiting for a response, Hermione's mother grabbed her daughter by her hand, and pulled her out of the room, and judging from the click-clack of shoes on the wood of the stairs, they went upstairs.

Harry turned to Mr. Granger, suddenly nervous because of the fact they were alone and slightly uncomfortable and in awkward silence.

"So, Harry," Mr. Granger began, "Do you play sports? And if so, what do you play?"

Hermione Granger was a smart girl. So when she processed her mother's actions and sudden change of subject, she knew what her mother wanted to speak about. She had been quite scared when Harry was asked about his clothing, because she knew that Harry didn't like to talk about the Dursleys, nor did he liked to be pitied. She was glad her mother hadn't sent him a pitying look, he would have been so ashamed and embarrassed. She knew him enough to know that – in fact, she knew all his responses to almost everything – something, she took pride in.

Her mother had that determined look on her face as she led her into her bedroom and locked the door behind them with a gentle tap of the heel of her shoe. The two bounced down on the bed, just as the door closed with a quiet, oddly satisfying click.

Her mother turned to her with a quirked eyebrow and a frown on her face – Hermione pretended not to notice and put on her most innocent expression. The ever successful Dr. Granger sighed, "There's something you aren't telling me, dear, you and I both know that we aren't leaving this room until you spilled."

Hermione tried to go against her own reasoning, but she knew that her mother was correct, it was easier to tell her without resisting – that only made their talk more grueling and emotion-filled. "Well, in simple terms, Harry's relatives," she spat the word, earing raised eyebrows from her parent that she pointedly ignored, "positively hate him for a reason he won't tell me – not that I know that he knows – and Harry never gets anything nice, the only clothing he ever got possession of was Mrs. Weasley's jumpers and his whale of a cousin's hand-me-downs!"

Her mother, she noted, looked pensive before she spoke slowly, "So Harry's never really had comfortable clothing?" Hermione shook her head. No. "And Harry doesn't like to speak about it?"

Slowly, Hermione shook her head, "He doesn't like to speak about his treatment because he knows he'll receive pitiful looks in response, and he doesn't like to be pitied – he finds it most uncomfortable. I know, even if he doesn't want to admit it, that his treatment at the Dursleys' – that's his relatives – hand is scarily more than he lets on, but I don't want to pressure him into telling me. He tends to keep to himself – another trait I can bet that came from his treatment of the Dursleys." Hermione said without a breath nor pause.

Her mother sighed, and as Hermione had expected, she had a pitying glint in her eyes as she once again, sighed. Then, like the sun had just replaced the rain, Hermione's mother straightened up. "I have an idea!" She sang with a grin.

"Oh no." Hermione muttered, her hand rubbing her face downwards. Suddenly, she was pitying Harry.

"So, the seekers you say, have to go after a golden ball with wings in the air? The same position that you play as?" Mr. Granger was asked as he took a sip of his coffee before setting it down on the forgotten newspaper that was being used now, as a placemat. They had been speaking about Quidditch ever since Harry explained that Quidditch was the sport that he played. Mr. Granger had been interested and Harry spent the time explaining the basics of Quidditch and some of the histories he knew out of his head, from which he had read out of the ever-knowledgeable Quidditch Through The Ages. So far, judging from what Mr. Granger said about how he once played college rugby ("An act that won me Hermione's mother's affection," he had mentioned with a wink) Mr. Granger would make a pretty good Chaser.

"Yeah, I play Seeker in the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and that's what the Seeker does – it's much harder than it sounds though and more difficult – remember, we are on a broom kilometers high with the beaters aiming metal balls at our heads."

"Oh, how could I forget?" Hermione sniffed as she came down from the staircase. An overly excited Jean behind her – a little too excited for Harry's liking if he does say so himself. "Merlin, Harry, if it weren't for you, I would never have graced the Quidditch pitch." Harry grinned, that sounded so much like Hermione.

"Harry!" Jean said, and Harry was suddenly feeling nervous as he once again caught sight of her overexcited expression. "We're going shopping, it's on me so don't worry, and don't you say a word against it, young man – I will make sure you get clothes that actually fit you. Do you understand?" She asked. Harry had no choice but to mutely nod, too overcome with emotion to speak. Mrs. Granger – Jean – cared so much about him that she was making it her mission to make sure he had comfortable clothing! How could he say no to that?!

"Great!" She beamed. "Now, off to your room to get ready, we leave for London in five minutes." Harry was sure that he had never run to his room – he actually had a real room – so fast, and so happy. He could just hear what Jean was saying to Hermione, "No, Hermione, you can't go with us. But rest assured that I will buy something for you." He could almost hear the mischief in her voice.

It was probably one of the most grueling experiences of his entire life and he wasn't sure why he had agreed to such an activity in the first place – was his answer influenced by the Imperius Curse? Because he wasn't sure that he was in his right mind when he nodded – why hadn't he refused? He could have been saved from two – almost three – hours of shopping with Hermione's mother!

He sighed as he plunked down onto the couch in the Granger's living room – Merlin, how had shopping exhausted him to the point where he was on the brink of sleeping?! Jean had to run to the Dentistry because Mr. Granger had a slight mix up with their Dentistry equipment and promised that she would be back to fix up their lunch. Jean had dropped him off at the driveway and he had to bring the five – five! – heavy bags of different articles of clothing into the house. He was lucky to even make it to the couch.

There was the sound of giggling behind him and he and he suddenly found unknown reserves of energy to turn around and he scowled at the sight of a giggling Hermione, covering her mouth in an obviously failing attempt at hiding her humour. "Shut up," he muttered as he turned around and settled into the cushions of the couch.

He heard Hermione give one more snort of laughter before she took what he assumed to be a breath to calm herself as he rolled his eyes before he felt her familiar presence beside him – wait, did she just jump over the back of the couch?!

"Harry – wait, Harry did you get a haircut?!" Oh right, the bloody haircut. Jean had been rather adamant about getting him 'pretty' for his next term at Hogwarts – her words, not his – so she showed him the way to the barber shop. His hair was a large mess as always, but this year it was longer than it had ever been, his hair was ever covering his ears. But now, after the haircut, his hair was shorter. The sides had been cut very short in what the barber explained to be a 'high fade' while the top had been trimmed and pulled a little to the side. Jean had also insisted to pay for the haircut – he just had to find a way to repay her.

"Yep, your mum insisted that I did," Harry replied to the astonished, gaping human that was his best friend. It seemed to snap Hermione out of her staring and she blushed a little before she coughed – really obviously fake if Harry was being honest.

She chuckled, sounding a little more genuine this time, "That does sound like something my mother would do!" She commented.

She looked on as Harry suddenly blushed after his face had grown pensive, he reached into his pockets (when she then noticed he was still wearing Dudley's clothing) and pulled out a plastic bag. "Um, y-your mum said that today's a nice day… and that we could use your pool a bit before we ate lunch…" Harry stuttered before he shoved the plastic bag into Hermione's hands, "She said this was for you!"

Hermione took the bag with a frown, what was so ugly in here that her mother had brought that Harry was so adamant about getting it out of his hands. She sighed, "Okay, I'll go get ready, and how about you too, hmm?"

Harry nodded, the blush still on his face as he quickly garnered energy from some unknown source to gather the bags into his hands and rush up and into his room. Blimey, what was happening to him?

Hermione sighed miserably as she watched her best friend run up and into his room. She really didn't want to know what her mother had bought her but figured she would later anyway, so decided to check now. Like Harry, she ran into her room and firmly locked the door of her bedroom behind her with a tap of her shoe. Plumping down on the bed, she reluctantly opened the plastic bag, and honestly, genuinely felt as though she was going to faint.


	5. Chapter V - No Time Like The Present

A/N: Please be aware that I've changed the rating to M. Note that Harry and Hermione will be sexually attracted to each other in close future chapters, but they will not be overly explicit (as yet). Maybe in future chapters when they are around fifth or sixth year, they may be a little more smut. If you didn't guess it yet, I am taking this past Christmas.

Chapter V - No Time Like the Present

Hermione sighed as she plunked down on her bed again, she had tried to put on her previous swimsuits, but as the note her mother had put in the plastic bag had said, she had grown out of them. She would admit, she did grow out of the one-pieces, but what stopped her mother from buying another one that would fit her? No, her mother just had to buy her first two-piece bikini.

She already knew that she didn't have the most girlish figure, in fact, she was positive that she didn't have a girlish figure at all, so it made it all the worse to go and put herself in her mother's gift and then swim in a pool that had the most eligible wizard alive in it.

She was already feeling humiliated, but even thinking about how Harry's face would scorn in distaste as he looked at her in these awful pieces of clothing made her stomach knot uncomfortably! With nothing else left to do, she undressed again and changed into her mother's stupid, stupid surprise.

The pool was interesting of course, probably because he had never been to a pool thanks to the Dursleys, but he found the pool in the backyard of the Granger's house so much more interesting as he caught sight of Hermione, dressed in a big baggy shirt and a pair of trunks. Heat rushed to his face as he turned back to the very interesting water inside of the very interesting pool. He heard a sigh and the ruffling of clothing and he turned just in time to see Hermione take the baggy shirt off. His eyes strayed to her stomach and he was surprised to see the red piece of fabric a bit lower.

A cough interrupted his mind's wandering and he looked sheepishly up to an equally blushing and embarrassed Hermione.

"Err, do you know how to swim, Harry?" She asked, "I know it's a stupid question because we're already at the pool, but you know how my curiosity always gets the best of me –"

"I understand, Hermione," Harry interrupted her tirade with an amused chuckle. It had Hermione blushing even more as she folded her arms and walked over to the edge of the pool where Harry was. Harry watched her beautiful legs as she slowly descended and sat next to him, the tips of her toes swishing at the tip of the water's surface, adjacent to his own. His stomach twisted and he willed himself to answer her unanswered question, "As for your question, it's quite embarrassing actually, no."'

Hermione looked at him and he knew by the look in her eye that he didn't need to tell her the reason because she already knew. The way she could read his thoughts sometimes surprised him – even though it was quite often. He liked it anyway.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry," she said as she reached and patted his hand in an understanding, sympathetic gesture. He found that even a slight, almost invisible gesture like this could send tingles up his spine. "I'll teach you – and I swear when I get my hands on those bastards…" She closed her eyes and Harry saw the evil smile on her lips and couldn't imagine the horrors Hermione was thinking about doing to the Dursleys, not that he cared of course – the more pain they got and the revenge he got, the better.

Hermione sighed as she turned to him – apparently, she was over with dreaming about the deaths she would give the Dursleys when time demanded it. She looked up to him with her dazzling smile and Harry found himself smiling back, unable to resist. '

Wait, Merlin, was she speaking the entire time?!

"– and then we could start with some more movement demanding swimming strokes and you'll see that you'll get the hang of it before you even know! I promise you so!" She was saying, looking passionate and determined at him.

"How do you know so much about swimming, Hermione? I know you're brilliant and all, but…" He asked, trailing off expectantly.

Hermione blushed, "I learned when I was younger, my parents were rather adamant about it because they were being over paranoid about my safety – and who was I to argue with my parents? Besides, it was something to learn, and I wasn't about to turn it down, now was I?" Harry shook his head. Hermione not accepting learning anything was unbelievable in his eyes – well unless she was offered to learn something terrible or not worthy of her time.

Hermione coughed, "Ok then, are you ready?" Harry sighed, there was no time like the present after all.

It was lunchtime when Harry and Hermione left the pool, both with smiles on their faces and towels around their figures. Why they had decided to swim in the middle of Christmas, probably a day before the snow was predicted to fall, they didn't know. But Merlin, they had made the best of their time in the water.

Harry relished his intimate moments with Hermione as she taught him how to swim and soon, he had become somewhat more than a mere amateur – Hermione was such a great teacher and it had him wondering if she had ever considered teaching at Hogwarts – Professor Granger had a nice ring to it.

Hermione on the other hand thought that she hadn't taught Harry to the best of her potential. She spent more than a little of her time in the water with Harry, wondering what she looked like in his eyes, or if her pieces of clothing were transparent because of the water. She didn't want to admit it to herself and get her hopes up too much – but she was sure she had caught Harry staring more than a few times. Personally, she was elated!

It made her think of when they were rubbing sunscreen over each other's back just in case the sun became suddenly hot. When she had massaged the sunscreen into Harry's back, she was livid to find so many cuts and bruises – and she was even angrier to think that the freshest wound on his shoulder wasn't his Hungarian Horntail scar. She had to swallow her anger to actually look after Harry and make sure she didn't hurt him more than he already was with her anger controlling her hands.

When it was her turn, her heart started to beat in anticipation at an unnatural pace. She laid down on the lounge chair on her stomach and she knew what a clear view Harry had of her bum and everything, she could feel his eyes on her and she couldn't help but feel giddy and not the least bit scandalized or objectified.

With what felt like all the hesitance in the world, Harry's hands finally touched her back and he started to rub the sunscreen into her skin. In a short sentence, his hands were made her feel like royalty. He excellently massaged her days of hunching over books as she prepared for exams, and when his fingers slipped under the little fabric of the back of her bra and waistband, she shivered, unbelievably hot in cold weather. Did he know what he was doing to her? At least the water would cover up for the spots on her knic – Hermione shook her head.

Harry was turning her more and more into a hormonal 14-year-old every day.

She dried her skin and soon she was already dressed and ready to head downstairs to do…something – she was sure with the right persuasion, she could convince Harry to start their homework early.

With a smirk, she hopped the last steps of the staircase but immediately stopped at the smell of something that smelt super tasty and endearing.

"Harry, don't tell me –" She murmured to herself as she went into the kitchen. As she expected, Harry was in the kitchen cooking, he was moving so fast that she could barely make out that one second he was chopping, the other he was stirring the pot that was on the stove. He was tasting his cooking when he turned to her and paused at her sight, spoon still in mouth and bespectacled eyes wide.

He coughed and bent over the sink to spit out the spoon that was apparently hot before he turned to her, licking his lips, looking unbelievably sheepish, and judging from the red tinge on his cheeks, he was embarrassed.

"H–Hermione!" He stuttered and she couldn't help but think that he looked rather adorable when he was embarrassed, "What are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Ahem, last time I checked, I live here – but I can ask the same about you."

Harry turned to the stove and back to her, "O–Oh… this?" He coughed, "Well, I just thought I should repay you and your parents for everything that you're doing for me – not that it makes up for everything that you've already done for me. It's just lunch anyway – I guess I learned some stuff at the Dursleys." He shrugged, looking even more embarrassed – if she knew Harry (which she of course did) he was embarrassed at commending himself – he probably felt as though people would think that he was bragging.

"Harry," she said softly as she walked over to him and patted his arm affectionately – these little touches brought warmth into her, "As much as I appreciate this – and so will mum and dad – you didn't have to do this."

Harry smiled at her and she felt the usual butterflies fluttering in her stomach and willed herself to keep her blush under control. "Still, I'm rather good at cooking and I'm a bit famished, I'm sure you are too.

Hermione's stomach took exactly that time to rumble, betraying her empty stomach and need for food. She sheepishly turned to her best friend who was grinning lopsidedly at her. "Yeah…" She murmured as she took a seat by the island, watching as Harry continued to work on whatever meal he was working at. From the speed he was working at, she could say that he was working extra hard and fast because she was hungry – she was privileged like that.

Ten minutes later, Jean Granger walked into the house unknown to the two kids currently occupying the building, and she too paused at the smell of the food. Hurriedly, she dropped off her handbag on the couch and walked to the kitchen and once again, paused.

Her daughter was wrapped in the hands of her best friend as he controlled her hand to stir whatever it was in one of her pots. As much as she loved the scene, she had to make her presence known. With a cough, she smirked as the kids reacted the exact same way as she had predicted. Loosening their hold on each other as they backed away, trying not to look suspicious.

"M–Mrs. Granger, I – um…" Harry stuttered.

"Harry was teaching me how to… cook," Hermione butted in helpfully as she confidently walked forward to her mother – well, with as much confidence she could muster when she knew she saw that look in her mother's eye that meant they were going to have a nice little chat later. She took some reassurance in her smile though.

"Dear God, I didn't even think that was possible," Mrs. Granger mock gasped – her hand even going to her mouth. "And Harry, dear, it's Jean."

Harry chuckled nervously, "Oh right – and why – why didn't you think that Hermione cooking wasn't possible?"

Jean ignored her daughter's huff and answered her child's best friend, "Well, if there's one thing our Hermione can't do, it's cooking. She's absolutely horrid and I would never leave her alone in a kitchen – ever,"

Hermione huffed again – knowing very well her mother was ignoring her, "Mother, I'm not that bad – ask Harry, he and I were just cooking." She turned, arms crossed, to her best friend. "Right, Harry?"

At his silence, her jaw dropped, "Harry!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry said as he raised his hands defensively, "You need a bit of work… I can help – if you'd like…" He added hopefully. Hermione narrowed her eyes but slowly, she nodded. Not wanting to show her barely contained enthusiasm at the idea.

"That'd be lovely," she said.

Jean, who had been watching the interaction, cleared her throat, it seemed as though the two were always in a world of their own with each other. "That would be lovely, Harry, but if you don't mind me asking, how is it that you know how to cook."

"Oh, I learned back at… my… relative's house…" He answered awkwardly as he rubbed at the tight of his leg – it was then when she noticed he was wearing one of the new clothing they had bought during their little outing this morning. She nodded at Harry, trying to hide the fact that she wanted to beat those…people… to plum for what they did to this poor, poor boy. She turned to her daughter, a smirk on her face.

"Your hair's quite wet, sweetheart, did you two use the pool?" She asked innocently – almost laughing as she saw her daughter's eyes almost immediately narrow.

"Yes, mother – we did, indeed, use the pool." If possible, her eyes narrowed further.

"Very nice, dear, I'm sure you'll tell me all about that later, but now," she turned to Harry, ignoring yet another huff from her daughter – they would speak later about this, she simply had to find out if she had embarrassed both her daughter and her daughter's best friend in one go, "Harry, how long more does the food have? Is there anything I could do?"

"It's finished actually," he said as he turned around and took off the stove, "And I would have asked you to set up the table, but Hermione and I already took care of that when the soup just starting to finish up. Sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie." Jean smiled as she and Hermione went to the dining table. Soon, Harry was serving some of the best smelling chicken soup she had ever smelled in her entire lifetime. He returned the pot and then returned to the dinner table free of an apron but with a lunch bag in hand.

"For Mr. Granger," he explained and Jean fought back a wide smile, and settled for a simple warm one – knowing the child would be embarrassed and uncomfortable as he always was when he was exposed to affection – those evil bastards had done a number on the poor child.

She smiled as she watched Harry sit particularly closed to Hermione and Hermione tried to unsuspiciously pull her chair closer to his without him noticing – which worked because Harry was quite dense. Thank God that Richard wasn't as dense as Harry was and didn't see the signs she was sending him. She looked down into the wonderfully crafted bowl to the beautifully presented dish and with another smile, she dipped the soup spoon in and then into her mouth. She moaned in delight at the exotic taste that she received and she found it hard to believe that a fourteen-year-old boy had made this.

If she remembered correctly, there were no cooking books or recipes anywhere in the kitchen, so that meant Harry had cooked everything off his head – honestly, this boy was amazing her more and more as he stayed here.

"This is absolutely delicious Harry, I must commend you!" Emma said and she watched as the boy squirmed in his seat at the praise. Hermione took a sip of her own chicken soup and she sighed, Merlin, just when she thought her best friend couldn't get any more fanciable.

"Mum's right, Harry," Hermione said as she took another sip – if it were possible, she would eat this for the rest of her life, "This is wonderful! The flavours are just – wow!"

He blushed more profusely at her statement and ducked his head as he tried to shake off the attention on him by eating some of his own soup – both Granger women couldn't help but smile at his modesty, their smiles were as sad as usual though when they remembered for the umpteenth time that day that the Dursleys had done terrible, terrible things to this boy, more than either of them fully knew of.

It was after Mrs. Granger left for work with her husband's lunch bag with the delightful chicken soup inside that Harry and Hermione finally got time to actually be alone. She forgot who suggested it, but soon, they were on the couch in the Granger's living room watching the most amazing movies that her father had collected through his years.

Hermione had always asked why he would find something like collecting movies amusing or fun, considering his age and all (not that she mentioned that – nor did she mention the grey hair that was peeking from behind her father's Jackson) – but now that she saw that Harry was enjoying these very same movies, she wanted to hug the living daylight out of him.

At first, she had decided to go a little festive and in-season and picked some merry – excuse the pun – Christmas specials and classics that she could never forget watching as a little girl on her parent's lap. It was endearing and heart-breaking at the same time to watch Harry watch these movies with her and acted the way she did when she was watching with her parents – the only difference was that Harry didn't have parents, and missed out on the feeling of love she had felt all those years ago watching these same movies with her parents, not knowing there was a boy in Privet Drive at that very moment, forced to be on his own like every other Christmas.

The Christmas-themed movies started to run out, so they dived into some other genres, like action, adventure, mystery (Scooby Doo was absolutely hilarious) and Harry got more addicted to them.

Hermione's parents returned home and they disconnected the telly so they could spend some time together and Hermione was thankful – Harry was about to pull out the DVDs of Romance/Drama movies and she didn't feel in the mood to cry in front of Harry.

While it was fun to watch Harry squirm again under compliments about his well-cooked meal from her father, Hermione inwardly sighed as she noticed that Harry was still guarded around the Dentist. Her dad had made a horrid first impression and Harry had left him out of the walls he had built around himself – she was privileged to know she was within those walls and not outside of them. And from the way Harry was warming up to her mother, she might just get company within Harry's personal walls.

She didn't know what her mother was doing, but clearly, it was making Harry at ease, so Hermione laid off her mother's case – for now. What mattered was that Harry was enjoying the Christmas holidays – and while it was too early to determine, she could say that Harry was indeed enjoying his stay at her house.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she laid down in bed that night tuckered out and ready to close her eyes. Her dreams that night were filled with the sight of green eyes that had lit up spectacularly when Santa had lifted off into the night sky in a sleigh filled with presents, pulled by magical reindeers.

Harry had to say that even though he had only spent a day at the Granger's household, that this was already the best Christmas he had ever had in his entire life. He was sure that years ago on this very same day, instead of watching movies and enjoying dinner with a family, he would be in his cupboard under the stairs, making the same Christmas wish as he did every year – including this year even though it was better. He wished for his parents.

He went to sleep that night but unlike the girl in the other room who was dreaming about green eyes, he was dreaming about brown. And the way those same brown eyes made him feel special, made him feel loved.

For the first time Harry Potter could remember, he fell asleep on a night in the Christmas holidays, with a smile on his face.

Reviews are welcome! Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter VI - Sirius' Reasoning: Part I

I apologise for the grammar errors.

Chapter VI – Sirius' Reasoning: Part I

In the Netherlands, there was a man in a small tent in the nearby woods, sighing as he picked up the pot from over the fireplace and placed it on his makeshift wooden table. Around him the snow laid, but didn't touch the ground he was occupying, magic certainly had the most wonderful perks, didn't it? Of course, the muggles didn't see this, in fact, if they got too close to the area, they would simply scratch their heads and walk in another direction, any direction that wasn't leading to his secret hideout at the moment. He sighed once more, something that was more constant, he couldn't help it, it seemed like the only thing that was good right now, was the fact that his arse wasn't freezing thanks to the heating charms and enchantments placed around the area.

He was lucky though, that he was able to catch a fish from the nearby stream to eat today, it would work for his breakfast, lunch and his dinner, like anything else would nowadays. Sure enough, he sighed again and stood up with a groan to go into the tent he had stolen and enchanted to make into a Wizarding tent, to get his silverware to eat, silverware that was, of course, stolen, as well. He was the heir of one of the noblest, most ancient houses in the entire Wizarding World, and was richer than the rich, but here he was, stranded in a tent in the Netherlands stealing forks and plates to eat in the freezing cold of winter. He imagined his mother screeching for Merlin himself if she ever found out.

He chuckled humourously as his back groaned a little when he bent to open the conjured cupboard However had things gotten the way they were now? It was in the beginning, he thought as he got up back, he was thirty… something, and already his back was aching, what next, he'd have grey hair? He shivered, but not from the cold. Where was he? Right, it was all in the beginning, becoming friends with Peter Pettigrew was easily one of the most regretted mistakes of his life, number two, and right after number one which was letting Pettigrew be his best friends' secret keeper.

There wasn't a day that didn't go by that he didn't miss James. Every night when he managed to sleep without nightmares caused by his years with the dementors, he would dream of the life that he would have had, the life they would have all had if Voldemort wasn't alive; if Pettigrew had accidentally walked in front of a car in his Animagus form.

But he knew, more than anyone else, that these dreams his mind was conjuring weren't real, they were made up, taunting him of what he could have had, what they all could have had if Voldemort wasn't alive, if Pettigrew wasn't alive

He was partly to blame for the situation he was in too, there was absolutely no reason for him to chase after the filthy traitor after he found Lily and James' body and Hagrid with his godson. He was just filled with so much undying, uncontrolled rage that he didn't even notice that Hagrid was taking away his godson. But back then, he was reckless and didn't care that much about his consequences as he was now, all that rage only made him care about finding that traitor and murdering him, making him pay for what he'd done to James, to Lily… to Harry.

His heartstrings pulled painfully in his chest and he coughed, fighting back the tears, Harry didn't even get to know his parents. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts under control. He had apparated to the village where Pettigrew had owned a flat for some time and sure enough, Wormtail was there.

They argued, attracting on-lookers and his rage only heightened when Wormtail started to accuse him of betraying the Potters to Voldemort. Then Wormtail made the mistake of saying that he was the reason that Prongs' son no longer had a father or mother. How dare he say that? He would have never done that to his godson, to be accused of such horror left him mindless as he fired hexes and curses to the traitor.

Unfortunately, the rat had been prepared, knowing he'd want revenge and that he was out for blood, and Sirius regretted when he, Remus, and James had taught Pettigrew how to fight when the Dark Lord was getting deadlier.

Curses, both magic and verbal, that would make his parents proud in both cases, were fired at the rat, and then the authorities came. He had forgotten they were in a muggle neighbourhood, and their duel was breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and now, the Aurors and the Obliviators had arrived, wanting to find out and reverse what had caused the magical disturbance.

Then Pettigrew made the pranks he'd played before at Hogwarts, look like a speck of dirt. With his wand, he severed his finger, and with a wince and a cry of pain, he watched it fall to the ground, and hid his bleeding hand behind his back and shouted for help, yelling that Sirius Black was the one who betrayed the Potters, that he was a Death Eater working for Voldemort.

Then the smoke came up, and Sirius didn't know from where, but then he didn't mind if it came out of someone's arse, he could see Wormtail and Wormtail only. The blasting curse was fired through the village, killing 12 muggles and he was blamed for it.

Without question and without trial he was taken to the island of Azkaban and given the cell he occupied so far for 13 long years. He shuddered, it was Dumbledore's idea that he didn't return to Britain as yet, because the Minister was still to settle down about a mass murderer being on the loose, but there was something that confused Sirius. He had properties dotted across Britain that belonged to his family and therefore he, properties that were unplottable and not even the Ministry could find it? Why didn't he use those?

It wasn't that Dumbledore told him not to use them, he said get out of the country. And Sirius listened to his every word without a second thought. He could have been home, healing, and eating properly with house-elves helping him with things he could barely help himself with! But here he was, starving his arse off because he listened to Albus Dumbledore.

It took him five minutes to calm down. Two full minutes at laughing at his sheer stupidity, and three for raging madly because he was such an idiot. And Harry, Harry could have come lived with him over the holidays, and they could have caught up, talk about their problems, he could have told him about the Marauders and their pranks, they could have played Quidditch together, he could have helped Harry with the girls and whatever shitty stuff they could think of.

He could remember the night at Hogwarts when they found Pettigrew, quite vividly, it roamed his nightmares after all. No child should have lit up in excitement as much as Harry had at the thought of leaving family. It was signs of abuse, it clearly was and he was loathed to admit that he played a part in Harry getting sent to those muggles. If he hadn't let Hagrid go because Dumbledore wanted him to, then he would have had guardianship of his godson.

Dumbledore.

He growled. Dumbledore played an even bigger role in this than he did, Dumbledore was the one who put Harry with Lily's sister. Harry was abused because of Dumbledore. The boy was clearly malnourished and was too skinny to be James' son. James always had a fit exterior and Lily wasn't so skinny as to make Harry skinny by genes – not that he ever looked at Lily like that, James would have killed him! He shook his head, he made more mistakes than he originally thought.

Trusting Dumbledore was easy, because, he did, but his trust for the ancient wizard was diminishing as he reasoned with himself some more, why was it that Dumbledore didn't want him next to his godson? He had to find out, he had to. He had to go back to Britain, contact Remus and they would discuss this. Devouring his food, he packed everything and took down the charms and enchantments. He looked into the sky, he wouldn't make any more mistakes, he would make his best friend's proud, he'd make Pettigrew pay, but most importantly, he would make his godson happy.

With a sigh, he disillusioned himself and apparated, ready to turn over a new leaf.

…

The street was as dead as night, there wasn't a person in sight, there wasn't any movement of roaming creatures, there was even no indication that this community in the east of London, was occupied, or that it wasn't totally abandoned. He thought that by now, after spending 15 years in this place, he would have gotten used to the distinctly dark aura surrounding the environment, but yet, he shuddered as he stepped towards the magical door that only he could see.

It was no rumour to magicals that even when the owner of a Fidelius charmed magical property passed away, the charm would still uphold. In some cases it didn't, usually when the caster of the charm was just the average wizard, but if not, and usually if the owner had a child, the charm would uphold, but only the owner's children could see it. His mother, Walburga, died after his father, Orion, and he was her second child, but her child nevertheless, so he could still notice the house.

As loathe as he was to explain it to himself, he knew that he didn't own the other Black properties just as yet because he was yet to officially take up the title of Lord Black. Which brought an additional problem to his apparently ever-growing list of things that were affecting him, which he had to take care of in a matter of time. Once he eventually settled down and probably brightened the place a little, he would have to somehow contact Gringotts and get his titles and property. Which was where he assumed Remus would come in. He wasn't in contact with Remus at the current moment, and he blamed himself and Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore for telling him that he shouldn't owl people because of the potential danger it possessed. And him, for simply listening without thought or question. Once he was fed and healed, once he had a Dreamless Sleep Potion and finally had a decent night's sleep, he would have to reconsider his loyalty to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – something, until now, he had never even thought about – and he was sure that before now if he had ever thought about it, he would have probably snorted.

It was around mid-afternoon now and the sun was looming over the buildings behind, making the building's shadow loom over him and he sighed, the building seemed to be getting spookier and darker as he walked forward. Was that a new enchantment he hadn't known of, an activity that must have happened during his absence? He shook his head as he slowly walked up the short staircase to the dark oak door, he didn't care about this house, why should he care about the enchantments and wards around it?

Instead of shaking his entire head, he shook his entire body, betraying the shiver of darkness that he felt run down his spine along with the beads of sweat that betrayed his fright and nervousness. But, with another shake, he turned the lock and opened the door, he was a Gryffindor at heart after all.

The door creaked and groaned under his applied pressure as he slowly pushed it open, and he smiled just the slightest bit, at least some things hadn't changed – not that it was such a good thing though. His breath was so shallow that he himself could hardly hear it and his movements were silent and sneaky as he sneaked into his own house. From his time kicked out of the house, he learned from his cousin that his mother had put up a large painting of herself in the hallway when her unpreventable demise was predicted by a seer to be approaching.

To be quite honest, he was elated when he heard the soon fate that his mother was destined to – you may think that that was a terrible thing to think, but then you never met his mother before. His actions to get into the house quietly, however, proved to be feeble.

"Who dares to enter the House of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black?!" He sighed, the voice was more than familiar to him because it was the voice of his mother. Walking further up to where he heard the screeching coming from, he turned to the large portrait of his mother, whose eyes widened in shock and utter disbelief.

"You," she said, and if it was possible, her eyes widened further, it must have just been another feature of the portrait though - who knew?. "You filthy blood traitor scum! How dare you return here! How dare you betray and disgrace the most ancient and noble house of black and return here as though you own the place."

"That is because I do own the house," he said as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. She kept surprising him over and over again with her stupidity. "Now, with the power of the most ancient and noble house of black, I cast this portrait out of this house."

Even though he didn't think it was possible, he swore he saw her eyes opened further as she shook her head slowly, as though she wasn't believing that he was doing this. Then she snarled, but luckily, it didn't affect him as much as it did back then when he was a simple teenager and hadn't faced the things the future him had, "You wouldn't dare!"

"Shut up!" He suddenly roared, he had had enough of her, even if this was the first minute he'd spent with her for the first time in probably two decades, and it wasn't even her fully, it was a blood portrait of her, "I've had just about enough of you, I cast you out!" The sound of her cries for justice and a few choice words were music to his ears as he watched her portrait stand up on its own and pop away in the thin ear.

The serving house-elf of the family, however, was a different problem. He could easily cast out the bloody house elf by the name of Kreacher as he had just down with his mother's portrait, but unlike his mother, Kreacher had reasons to stay alive. With Kreacher here, he wouldn't have to exhaust himself as much to clean the house and make it look at least presentable, he wouldn't have to make his own food and he could have a night of sleep without waking up to look over his shoulder to see if someone was going to kill him. If he gave Kreacher the right and specific instructions, then he could finally rest.

With a dreamless sleeping potion and a dinner of curried chicken and rice, he was asleep on the couch, not able to find which bedroom was good enough for him. He was almost sure that he'd have a spout of PTSD if he went into his old room, where memories and memos of his time with his brother in all but blood and name were all around. He sighed, even in his bloody sleep, this time with a sense of content, tomorrow, he had work to do and he intended to get it done.

Again, sorry for any grammar errors, or if I disappointed you with this chapter. It isn't the best work I've done and quite honestly, I'm not that proud of my chapter.


	7. Chapter VII - Sirius' Reasoning: Part 2

Sorry for the grammatical errors.

Chapter VII – Sirius' Reasoning: Part II

Full moons were absolutely the worse and the fact that he could have made it home without dropping on the streets of London for someone to step over him – or worse, step on him, was very relieving. The house was average and quiet, yet friendly, just like he liked it, because, in many ways, he was similar to the house, a reason he felt so connected to it. Despite his connection to the apartment room in a building west of London, called Home for All, he wanted to move to a safer location. Safer as in, safer for the innocent muggles and probably even magicals that were around him that could be seriously and undoubtedly affected and injured by him, an affected person.

A small cottage in the woods was a very endearing idea, but to get property there and to get money to actually get a house was difficult, a word that was in his dictionary ever since he could remember, a word that seemed to be his companion in every alleyway of life, especially the dark ones.

Remus Lupin sighed, and for some odd reason, it felt redundant, Merlin, did the full moon affect his mental health as well? He chuckled humourously as he plumped himself down on the plump couch in his living room, of course it did. He looked around, as he came forward and rested his elbows on his knees, and smiled sadly. He had hit rock bottom, and the fall hurt, even if he knew it was only a matter of time.

The couches were probably the most comfortable feature of the small apartment he called his home. There were three, set in an open square, where the missing line to close the shape had a small telly rested on top of a wooden center table. He wanted to watch a bit of it, maybe some news, but he didn't want to see Sirius' face again on the Wanted posters and he didn't want to kill his eyes. He had just lost his job as an accountant and tomorrow he'd have to go job hunting for the fourth time this year. To his sides were the dimly lit lamps that were to the side of two different doors, adjacent to each other. The first door was black birch and it led to the bedroom he rarely occupied, as he often just waited for sleep to capture him on the couch, and the opposite one was white birch and led to the bathroom.

The sun was rising somewhere in the distance, but he didn't care at the moment. His groan echoed through the room as his hands caught his face and he choked a sob, how had things become the way they were, honestly, his head was hurting too much to contemplate that answer.

The marauders had fallen. Prongs was dead, Padfoot was running, Wormtail was betraying, and he was crumbling. One crumb of his sanity at a time, it was only another matter of time, before he gave up – even though he didn't want to. Everything was coming against him, it seemed. They were out to get him, wanting him to be miserable, and wanting him to be alone, and the power he was using to push them away was slowly diminishing as his willpower did too.

His year at Hogwarts last year had been a concoction mixed with heavy emotions. Happiness at seeing and meeting Harry, sadness at the lack of his parents, anger at Sirius and then later on as the truth became less obscure, anger at Pettigrew, and then, then there was the feeling of hopelessness that he was feeling yet again.

The feeling was always present after and before full moons but was more profound and powerful the day after the confrontation with Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack. He didn't know whether or not it was those voices in his head discouraging him once more or not, but he knew that it was his fault that Pettigrew escaped.

He had tried to help, but he had been reckless once he found out that James' child was in danger. Harry and he had grown closer during their time at Hogwarts and his caring and concern for his best friend's son had grown immensely and his need to protect him had grown even further, so he had kind of lost his control and had forgotten that night was the full moon and he needed to drink his Wolfsbane Potion. Even now, months after the event, he shook his head in disappointment at his own stupidity.

The word getting out to everyone that he was a werewolf thanks to Severus Snape didn't really matter at that point, because after the dangers he had put his honourary nephew and his best friends in, along with Sirius and Snape, he knew he couldn't stay at the comfort of Hogwarts anymore. So, after signing the required paperwork and speaking to Harry, returning the Marauders' Map in the process, he left before the howlers and the letters started to come in.

Finding the apartment building was beyond difficult and there was a time when he was certain he would end up on the streets when a man, the owner of the building he resided in, took pity on him and awarded him the building, along with a month of groceries that he sparsely used so he could preserve it as much as possible to use it when it was really needed – but now, it was finished. Well, not quite, there was one beverage that was left in the small fridge that he planned on using out today, a strong scotch.

Drinking had never been his thing, he was the smart one in the group that was no longer there, and he was always responsible knowing that drinking was one of the worse things you could take part in, but that was then, and this was now. When he was sixteen he didn't have the problems that he now had. The fridge was empty with only a piece of cake that he planned to eat on Christmas if he somehow still miraculously had his apartment and a small carton of milk that he had no use of.

He sighed and picked up the reasonably sized bottle of scotch and jammed the cover onto the edge of the table to open it, it foamed and he quickly put it towards his mouth when he heard it. Footsteps and muttering.

The bottle was just his escape from his problems but now as he held it offensively in his hand, it was now his escape from probably a murderer of some sort. His wand was in his other hand but if it was a muggle burglar he didn't want to use it before he added the Ministry to his long list of problems. Then the most unexpected person was looking at him, well, it wasn't exactly a person, but a house-elf.

...

"Sirius Black."

"Remus Lupin."

"Moony."

"Padfoot."

Remus smiled into his best friend's shoulder as they finally hugged after staring at each other for what seemed like centuries. Seeing his friend again was enjoyable and he relished his time with him. Sirius looked different from when he had last seen the man who had spent twelve years in Azkaban. He looked a little more cheerful and looked to be claiming back the weight that he had lost to his imprisonment. He was clearly getting better but the haunted look on his eyes suggested to Remus that he still had some healing to do.

They continued to hug before Sirius led them into the kitchen where the house-elf Kreacher had just placed some of the most delicious meals Remus had seen since Hogwarts.

"You look almost as bad as I did after Azkaban, Remus, and don't tell me it's because the full moon was the other day. Tell me, Remus, who are you really?" Sirius asked in a concerned tone and Remus was thankful that there were still glimpses of the man he had known, despite the fact that that same man spent years in probably the most feared place in Wizarding Britain. To know that Sirius was still sane and caring after what he endured warmed Remus and he couldn't help but tell the truth.

"Terrible, Sirius," he said hoarsely as he downed the brandy. Sirius had bought many apparently, either that or he had Kreacher get some, but Remus was thankful either way, he felt he needed the burning feeling in his throat. That there were a few drops of firewhiskey mixed into the already alluring brandy made him want more and soon he was spilling everything he had bottled up.

"Everything since 1981 had been absolutely terrible and for a while, things were starting to lighten as they had before Voldemort, but then, everything was suddenly this dark void that I had fallen into and constantly I don't have the energy, the enthusiasm to continue. I've tried accounting, I've tried cleaning, anything to keep the apartment I'm staying in, but I don't think I can carry on anymore. I just can't."

He choked a sob, he wouldn't cry. He hadn't cried since James and Lily's funeral and he wouldn't cry now.

If there was one person Sirius Black never expected to be in financial trouble, it would be Remus Lupin, or Moony, as he liked to call the man. Remus had always been the smart one in the group, the one to make the wise decisions that always made them unable to be caught while pranking while at the same time helping them pass their O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's. So to see the man he looked up to in near tears because of his troubles, had Sirius struggling to hold back his surprise. He clapped the man on his shoulder knowing Remus well enough to know that he'd think he was taking pity on him if he was rubbing his back. That man analyzed everything!

"I wanted to ask you to help me out with something, Moony, and seeing that you're in need of some help and I still have to find some way to repay you for all you've done to me, I think you might consider."

...

Remus was a werewolf and thanks to Snape, everyone knew. But before then, when it was only a few people that knew, namely just his parents, he was given an opportunity he couldn't refuse. Being a werewolf, he never thought that he would be able to have magical education and he really wanted to have it – so when Albus Dumbledore showed up at his parents' front porch and offered him the position of a student and a place to be when he transformed, he and his parents had agreed.

Ever since then his trust in Dumbledore was always there. But that was until today. Last night he had been offered the position of Regent of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black and with some of Sirius' persuasion and seeing that he had to get a job and Sirius offered to pay him a lot and because Sirius was his friend, he accepted the position, and today, even though he woke up hung-over, he knew he had made the right decision since freeing Sirius would be one of his tasks.

But before he got to work, Sirius sat him down and they had a discussion, and Remus' trust in Albus Dumbledore was diminishing. But before he fully stopped trusting Albus Dumbledore, he asked a question that was begging to be asked as this conversation had begun.

"But why would Dumbledore put me in Hogwarts then?"

Sirius sighed, "Remus, out of all the years Hogwarts has been alive, how many werewolves students were brought into the school?" He asked. Remus thought it over and the fact that he was the only one had his brows furrowing, "And it couldn't be that Dumbledore wanted to change things up and try to give education to werewolves because they were other werewolves the same age as you that he could have brought into school as well."

"What are you saying, Sirius?" Remus asked carefully, he had an idea as to where Sirius was going here.

"And then the war came and then Dumbledore wanted you to go and mix with the werewolves to get them onto our side! He was –"

"He was using me," Remus finished helpfully. He sat back as Sirius nodded solemnly and put his hands on his head rubbing his eyes tiredly with his palms. From everything that Sirius had just said to him, this and the fact that Dumbledore could have given Sirius a trial because of his position in the Wizengamot was most believing, it wasn't the most angering though. What was most angering was what Sirius told him concerning Harry's guardians.

Something else was figured out – well, remembered – when they were speaking about the Dursleys and Harry's treatment at the Dursleys: he was never supposed to be there. Apparently, Sirius' mind was a little bit jumbled up after his years at Azkaban but he was able to remember what Lily and James had told him on the day they performed the Godfather ritual on him to be Harry's godfather. They had told him that he was to look after Harry if something were to happen to him, and said that in their will it was written that if something happened to him, then the Longbottoms would take care of him and if something would have happened to them, then the Bones, then Minerva McGonagall, then Remus – Remus at last because of his furry little problem. In no way was it said for Harry to go to the Dursleys, but yet he was submitted there.

The will had also said that the Potters' secret keeper was Peter Pettigrew and not him. So they had immediately sent Kreacher to Gringotts to ask for information concerning the Potters' will and they were shocked with the information the house-elf had brought back to them. The Potters' will had been sealed by Albus Dumbledore. He clearly wanted Harry to go to the Dursleys but they didn't know why.

Remus sighed, yep, his trust for Albus Dumbledore had truly diminished, he couldn't believe that he was truly dumb and naïve enough to not notice that he was being used all the time.

"Are you alright, Remus?" His best friend asked tentatively as his hand came to reassuringly touch his forearm. He raised his head and smiled.

"It's time to get working." He said.

Sirius nodded with a smirk, "Time to get working."

They both apparated later, but to two different places.

...

"Remus Lupin!"

She was a quite lovely woman, he observed, as he got up and walked towards the door opened, but was innocent for him to affect. He was in the Ministry in one of the finest robes he had ever worn, it came with the job and he felt a little uncomfortable wearing something that was not only not his, but expensive. Sirius was a little too smug about the fact that he was finally wearing good clothing and was being looked after.

The door was dark oak and there was a square golden plate at the top with the words:

Amelia Bones  
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

The woman was the same age as he and Sirius and if he could remember properly Sirius was once in a relationship with her, it was Sirius' most committed relationship and they were still together until he was thrown into Azkaban. It was quite a sad story if he did so say himself.

Amelia was writing what he assumed to be a report of some sort when she looked up at him over her glasses, a small smile pulling at her lips. He cleared his throat and returned her smile, "Hello, Madam Bones."

She looked over her glasses even more, "Please, Remus, we know each other from Hogwarts, it's Amelia."

He smiled and took a seat because she gestured for him to do so, "Well then, hello, Amelia, it's good to see you again, aside from in the newspapers."

"It's good to see you too, Remus." She smiled, "I don't mean to be offensive, but I'm rather busy, is there something I can help you with?"

"No offense taken, Amelia, and yes, there is something you can help me with."

"Go on," she urged, intrigued.

"I've done some research and found out some really interesting information about Sirius Black's trial, and wish to discuss it with you, there are a few things that Id' like to discuss." He answered easily.

Remus watched as she took a deep breath, obviously, she was trying to control her emotions at the mention of the man she once loved – "and hopefully still does because he loves her too." Remus thought with a smile. Remus continued to watch as she called her assistant in and asked for the information on the trial of Sirius Black. The assistant then went and whispered something in Amelia's ear before she left and Amelia turned to Remus with her brows furrowed.

"Remus, there's no file for Sirius' trial." She announced.

Remus smiled a little smirk feeling warmth in his pocket indicating that everything was good on Sirius' side and he had sent the 'anonymous' note, "Exactly."

...

He relished the feeling of being in civilization again. In his time in the Netherlands and the other places he had camped out before and after the events at Hogwarts, he had technically been among people, but that was in his Animagus form. Now, he was among people and they looked at him and interacted with him and he felt blessed to be out of that madhouse called Azkaban prison, even if they didn't know who he really was thanks to the Polyjuice Potion.

Gringotts was just the way he had vividly remembered it in his past and he felt a smile pull at his lips, civilization had never felt this good.

He walked in and went straight for the nearest teller, telling him he had an appointment with Razorblade. Razorblade was in some ways similar to him, he was the Accounts Manager for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, but yet, he wasn't dark and creepy, but kind and tough.

"Sirius Orion Black," he said as the potion's effects wore off. Sirius knew that they wouldn't arrest him, because they knew the truth and because of how they were treated by the Ministry, who classified them as Magical Creatures.

It was an hour later that Sirius Black exited Gringotts with a smile on his face and as Lord Black. His plan for freedom probably already in the process thanks to Remus.

"Madam Bones, what a wonderful surprise," Cornelius Fudge said happily as he watched the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement walk into the room. The look on her face though, sent a shiver down his spine, she was clearly angry or upset about something, and when Amelia Bones was angry, you didn't want to be the person she was angry with. He sighed, what could be this time, hopefully not something that could damage his political position though, that would be simply disastrous and unthinkable, and he shuddered at the thought. Despite his inner turmoil, he plastered a fake smile onto his chubby wrinkly face. "What can I do for you on this very fine day?" Well, it was a fine day before she showed up.

"Cut the greetings, Minister, I have something to inform you about," she said, Cornelius sat back shocked, but Amelia ignored it. "Did you know that Sirius Black has never had a trial before?" She demanded with ferocity and Cornelius was taken aback once again, why would she want to know about that traitor Black?

"Well – no, but what's the need, we all know that Sirius Black not only betrayed the Blacks but broke the Statute of Secrecy and killed 19 muggles and James Potter's best friend Peter Pettigrew!"

"Minister, none of this is known to truth officially because there was no trial, imagine what the public would think if they heard a man spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he didn't do!" Amelia said she was getting angrier and angrier at the incompetent Minister.

Cornelius blustered, "Well, I'd say that's exactly why the public shouldn't know."

Amelia took a deep breath, "Well then, imagine what Lord Black would think then?" She enjoyed the way Cornelius' eyes widened.

"But –"

Amelia said nothing but silenced him nonetheless as she passed the note over the counter. It said:

I, Lord Black, hereby demand a trial to prove the innocence of my heir. If this is not achieved before the eve of the eve of Christmas, you will face the consequences of the man that owns a third of the Ministry.

Lord Black,

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

Cornelius' hands dropped the note in shock as he looked up to Amelia with wide eyes and shaking fingers, "Amelia," he said, "we have a trial to plan."

…

As the news reached Sirius and Remus that night by letter, the two downed themselves in firewhiskey and spent the night relaxing, knowing that things were about to change for the better. Sirius smiled as his eyes droopily closed, he was going to give his godson the best Christmas present.

Sorry for the grammatical errors.


	8. Chapter VIII - Visions: Both Past and Present

Chapter VIII – Visions: Both Past and Present

It was two days after he had first arrived and he was actually feeling at home at the Granger's residence. He was ecstatic to think and know that and it was one of the reasons that he was back in the kitchen of the Granger's house, once more cooking for them like he always liked and like they always agreed to – albeit reluctantly. Since he was cheerful though, he wanted to make something different, something extraordinary that would make their mouths water – he wanted to impress them. But more specifically, he wanted to impress Hermione.

His feelings for Hermione had drastically changed and he knew not of what they were now because he had no experience of – whatever was going on! He didn't understand what he was feeling to act on it. But if there was one thing he was sure he wanted to do concerning Hermione, it was to impress her. Before, Hermione had always encouraged him to do better – and it was still like this – and he would always pull up his socks and try to be better. But now, he wanted to show her that he was better, therefore, the plan to impress her through whatever skills he was good at. And one skill he was sure he was good at, was cooking.

So after Hermione's mum and dad left for their Dentistry and Hermione went to go take a shower – for some reason, she always took longer to get ready nowadays, the longer she spent though, the more he would find her beautiful – he went to work in the kitchen.

Hermione had recently shown him how to use the internet on a desktop computer she had gotten on her thirteenth birthday but had hardly used it because she was away from home most of the time and because of how far away Hogwarts was and the dormitory rules. But she knew how to use it and she showed him yesterday and when she was gone for some chore or another he sneaked back into the study and researched recipes for the most attractive and delicious meals he could browse for.

And now he was here, at the kitchen with the recipe imprinted into his skull, his face a mask of utter concentration as he tried to perfect everything concerning the meal that he could. His need to impress her was strong and uncontrollable, what was happening to him? What was she doing to him?

Twenty minutes later and he had cooked the best salmon that he could cook and Hermione and her mother were at the lunch table. And today, as though he was sensing there was something special, Mr. Granger was also here and ready to eat. Usually, he would be too busy at the Dentistry, covering for his wife, but he had taken time out of his work to come home to eat lunch with his family and him. Honestly, Harry was starting to warm up to the man he knew as Hermione's father.

He served the meal elegantly on the platters and filled their glasses with some of the drink they had bought at the nearby supermarket, and soon he was also sitting at the table watching their reactions, but Hermione's more vividly.

They looked speechless at the meal before them, as though they couldn't believe something like this could be cooked by someone who was fourteen years old – if he was in their position, he would think the same thing too, he figured. He watched with an embarrassed smile and blush as they then took a bite of their respective meals and moaned in delight.

"This is amazing, Harry," Hermione said with wide eyes as she took another bite.

"Totally incredible," Hermione's dad added.

"Absolutely brilliant," Jean moaned as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, and Harry was sure that his face was as red as a ripe tomato grown on the best patch of soil with the richest of nutrients. They continued to eat their lunch in peace and Harry found a sense of success at the way Hermione most of all was enjoying her meal, shooting him some really obvious stares that said she liked it, or at least, that's what he thought they meant.

The Granger parents went back to work after lunch and Harry and Hermione set off to the theater to watch any movie that was showing. Hermione had planned that for a while, because she saw how interested he was in them and wanted him to see movies on the big screen, an experience that was sure to be entertaining to both of them.

The movie they watched was called Fortunate, a story between a soldier and a woman he was in charge of smuggling out of the enemy's territory, it was very intense and they got injured and fought bad guys and had to survive in the harsh environment and everything, but what interested Harry was the way the two characters grew closer and closer to each other as the movie progressed further. In the end, the main character, the soldier, helped to triumph over the dark and married the woman he had smuggled out. It was a romance movie and by the end of it, Hermione was sniffling to herself as he lost himself to his thoughts.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his feelings for his best friend were, in fact, if he remembered properly, he thought about it every time he slept. Watching the movie, it seemed, was an eye-opener to him. The way the main character, the soldier, Jimmy, was attracted to the woman he was saving, Mary, was the same way he was attracted to Hermione. It was obvious in the movie that Jimmy was in love with Mary because of the way he acted around her and with her, how he was fiercely protective of her, and what was peculiar was the fact that he acted the same way around Hermione.

Best friends since the age of eleven and twelve and they had grown up together and went through some pretty intense times with each other, it seemed that the only logical explanation to his behaviour was that he fancied his best friend. He figured it was from the start of the TriWizard Tournament when his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire; she was the only one who had stuck by him while Ron and most of the entire school had opted to abandon and strike against him. Her loyalty had stirred something within him, something deep and meaningful and so had the love and the affection she had shown him, it seemed that it was most likely that he fancied his best friend.

Which brought up another problem, the problem of if she felt the same way about him. There was a time when he had the fleeting thought that Hermione fancied Ron, and the feeling had been both painful when he thought about it and shattered when she verbally slaughtered Ron the day when he was acting like the world's biggest git.

The little touches, the smiles the cuddles on the couch during movie time, their chats, and the comfort they had with each other, it was awesome, and it brought a different meaning to these tiny little actions that suddenly felt a little more significant.

They were walking back home in comfortable silence in the park. Hermione's hands had found their place wrapped around his arm as they journeyed back home and he found it deeply enjoying. The park was a lovely place and as much as he would love to see it during summer, he loved how it looked during winter as well. The trees were leafless of course but gave not a haunted aura as some in the Forbidden Forest had because there were fairy lights wrapped between their branches. There were benches and garbage bins, covered in snow and he found the sight wondrous and being here with Hermione, the position they were in, he thought something romantic for the first time in his short life. He blushed, but Hermione didn't seem to mind. She probably thought it was the cold.

At first, he mistook the sound for some sort of animal but as they drew closer to the source, he found the sound to be chattering children. He stopped as he looked at them. They were in front of an orphanage playing with the snow in clothing that barely protected them from it, but the children didn't seem to mind. Apparently, the adrenaline running through their veins was so much that they heated themselves, but Harry couldn't help but wonder what would have happened to them if they were feeling terribly cold and still wanted to play.

It was like a trigger had been pulled and his mind flashed through memories of his days in the cold cupboard during Christmas when he would give anything to play in the snow. He remembered knowing that if he was given the opportunity to have fun in the snow, he would take it, even though he didn't have anything to protect him from it.

When he had stopped, Hermione had pulled to a halt too and she was looking at him questioningly when she followed his gaze to the little orphanage she remembered being there ever since she could remember. In fact, if she could remember properly – which, of course, she could – it was one of the oldest buildings in the neighbourhood. She could imagine what Harry was thinking about, so she grasped their clothed hands tight and pulled him away with a scowl on her face. Those bloody Dursleys.

Harry though, was smiling, he had an idea, an idea he was going to share with the family tonight.

It was dinner when he brought up the idea. He was reluctant at first, as he was never the one to start a conversation at the dinner table, it seemed so much like a family thing to do, and this wasn't his family, he wasn't a part of it – even though there was a tiny part of him that wasn't as tiny as it seemed that wanted to bond with the family more than he already was.

"There's an orphanage near the park," he announced out of nowhere. It startled Hermione and Jean as they were the closest next to him, and were in worlds of their own as they ate. They looked at him curiously, their attention undivided as he was never one to speak about things on his mind. He tried to ignore the stares and continued, "Hermione and I saw it as we were coming back from the theater," he continued, inwardly laughing at the way he said 'Hermione and I' instead of 'me and Hermione' Hermione was rubbing off on him.

He blushed, rubbing off and Hermione weren't terms he wished to mingle at the moment. The entire rest of the day he had spent trying to spend less time with Hermione because of his feelings for her. He didn't know why exactly though, because he wanted to spend more time with her, but at the same time, he was so nervous that he just wanted to run away – which he did. She had looked both confused and amused, and for some time it looked as though her confused look was gone and it was just amused, with a little bit of embarrassment.

"Harry, are you alright?" Jean asked and it looked as though it was only Hermione's presence that stopped her from worrying over him like a mother from the look on her face. He wondered why they thought something was wrong with him, he knew he zoned out but their concerned reactions were a bit… exaggerated for him zoning out for a bit. "You look rather peaky, do you have a fever?"

Jean then suddenly reached across the table, her dainty hand reaching for him and Harry knew that she was trying to feel him see if he had a fever, but an image rushed to the forefront of his brain, the image of Uncle Vernon reaching to hit him as he tried his best not to get burnt as he cooked their breakfast. He recoiled from the hand, his breathing quickening without his knowledge and a bead of sweat appearing to make a bridge between his eyebrows.

Jean's hand snapped back to her as though they were burnt and he felt instantly guilty, what had he done? He got up, his chair scraping on the floor in his haste to leave, "I–I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger – everyone," he said, and with that, he backed away from the kitchen and back into the bedroom that he occupied. He didn't feel like calling his because of what he'd just done, he didn't deserve it.

What would be the consequences of his actions? Would they place him somewhere where he would be taken care of until Christmas end because they would no longer want him? He was being paranoid, he knew, but the thoughts kept popping up, he was helpless to stop it. Memories of his time with the Dursleys where he was punished and beaten, where he was starved and unloved. He was just getting what he wanted in the Grangers but then a simple flashback caused a catastrophe.

He shivered as he slid down the wall beside his bed, his head in his hands as he willed the pain and memories to leave. The taunts, the hitting, the punishing, the laughs, the pitying. Memories of each bad thing that happened to him just kept returning. Quirrel, Dementors, Riddle, green lights, and Wormtail, the tournament, everyone not believing him, Ron not believing him.

Ron was his best friend since the first year, they had been through so many things together, done so many as well, and yet, the redhead couldn't believe him when he spoke the truth. Harry would have thought that what they went through and the friendship they had, there was some level of trust between them but clearly he had been wrong.

Was that going to happen to him? Were people simply going to not trust him, were they going to walk away like it seemed almost everybody had at this point? It seemed that everyone he trusted, everyone he loved had left him. His parents were first and then there was Ron now, and Remus and Sirius hadn't been interacting with him as constantly as before. Had the tournament changed their minds about their relationship with him?

But you've still got Hermione, a voice said and he would kiss that voice if he would, for it was Hermione. Though, she wasn't saying the same things he was thinking she was saying.

How she had reached into his supposedly locked room, he would never know, but she was here nevertheless and was whispering words of comfort into his ears as her hands rubbed at his back. When had he started to cry?

Hermione was on her toes the moment she had seen the flicker of fear in Harry's eyes, ready to do something, anything, that would make sure he was alright. And when he had recoiled from her mother, she just had an idea of what was happening to her best friend. She had said it before, and she would say it again, the Dursleys were simply the worse people she would ever know, even though she had never met them before. The things they had done to her poor Harry were inexcusable, unforgivable and she would never regret it if she were to destroy their lives, even if it would have cost her her wand hand.

When he started to run, she was up as well, ready to run after him, her mother's sorrow nod only gave her more encouragement. She could tell that her mother was hurt, but she knew her mother enough to know that she would understand that it wasn't her fault, but the Dursleys and that Harry was scarred terribly.

She had slid into his room without him knowing and before he locked the door, and when he started to break down, she was at his side, right where she wanted to be, and right where she would always be for as long as he would have her.

She held him as he sobbed into her stomach, his tears wetting her jumper and his hand squeezing her arm enough to leave a mark, but she didn't mind. When he had fallen asleep in her arms, her parents came in, too sorrowful and sad to tease her about being in a boy's arms, even though he was in hers mostly.

Her dad was strong enough to lift him and place him onto the bed, and then the family resorted to the living room. It took most of her self-control not to jump into Harry's bed and spend the rest of the night holding him close to her. Despite the circumstances, she wouldn't expect her father would be too happy.

"I say we get him some therapy," Her father suggested.

"No," Hermione said definitely, "No way – Harry doesn't open up to people he's just met. After Ron, I think he's wary of letting people… in." Her father was confused, but her mother nodded thoughtfully, she had only told her mother, as she was sure that her father would lose it if she told him the things Ron had said and done.

"And then, there's a limited amount of time during this holiday." Her mother added, "I don't think that there's a possibility that he could be healed before the holidays are finished."

"What we need," her dad started, "is someone who's basically with him 24/7," he said and Hermione felt suddenly nervous as two very mischievous smiles turned to her.

"Hermione, can you –" They started, but there was no reason to say anything, for Hermione already knew what they wanted her to do. She was the brightest witch of her age after all.

"Of course I'll do it, it's Harry – I'll do it for Harry," she said definitely. "I have a suggestion though," she continued, "I feel we're a little cramped here, I suggest we go to Nan's this year. The ranch and the animals are sure to give him some calmness, some peace, some quietness. I know him well enough to know he values peace."

Her mum nodded, and her dad spoke, "It's settled then," he said, "we're going to Nan's."

…

The room was quiet and dark and he shivered as he felt the dark aura that surrounded the area, where was he? The wind rushed past his ear and rustled the branches and the leaves of the trees outside of the broken-down house that he was somehow in. He had been here before. He just couldn't remember when.

But then the memories started to flash before his eyes as he heard the sound of something rubbing off the ground. A snake's scaly skin, more specifically rubbing off the rubble on the ground. He was back in the dream he had involving Voldemort, Wormtail, and the old man who was murdered. Though, this time it was different. All his previous dreams like this were the same thing over and over again, this one seemed and felt like a different one. And that didn't sound like a good thing.

He was moving, even though he wasn't walking, and when he turned his head, he realized that he wasn't even in his own body. He was in Voldemort's snake. Bile rose to his throat, but other than looking, he found he could do nothing. The snake was in the room still and was slithering towards the exit, an old, dirty, and half-broken oak door that looked ready to fall off its hinges.

He was freaked out, to be frank. He'd had dreams like this before, but they weren't so… interactive. Usually, he would be watching from a distance as Voldemort unleashed terror but this time it was different. The dark aura that was usually in his surroundings, felt as though it was in him. And he felt dirty, violated.

But he guessed Voldemort had a way of making people feel like that. To feel nasty and dark whenever they encountered the Dark Lord or the Dark Lord's. He couldn't imagine what the people who were killed and tortured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters felt like. His parents would know though, but he had no intention of finding out.

The door was behind him as the snake left the shack and Harry could only look at the names on the tombs as the snake slithered past slowly but swiftly.

"I have returned, Master." The snake hissed and Harry knew that he could hear only because of his Parseltongue abilities. He looked towards where the snake was looking and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Wormtail. But what actually got his attention was what Wormtail was holding in his hands. A bundle of blankets where Voldemort's current body resided in. Harry seriously would have thrown up as the snake reached up and slid under Voldemort's hand as he caressed her skull with his bony hands.

"Very well, Nagini." Voldemort responded with a crack in his hoarse voice, "Wormtail here was just showing us what the potion looks like thus far. It's almost finished and with Barty Crouch Jr. there at Hogwarts, Potter will be here as our last ingredienttttt." The last word became more distant and hoarse as Voldemort laughed sinisterly and Harry was up in bed, his body huffing as he gasped for air and the bile finally releasing as he wretched.

…

In the next room, Jean Granger was wide awake next to her sleeping husband as she tried to beg sleep to overcome her. Sleeping didn't seem like a possibility though, as there were thoughts on her mind that were so persistent that they disallowed her rest. The look of fear and anguish on her daughter's best friend's face was enough to make her heartache although he wasn't her child. She deemed it as motherly instincts, which seemed suitable, unless the child didn't see you as his mother – or at least, a motherly figure.

She couldn't blame him though. He was new to affection and he never really had a mother, the feeling of having someone care for him the same way his own mother would have would obviously be overwhelming. It would have been overwhelming to her too. He had been fussed over by a mother in a motherly way, she knew from what Hermione told her, but she also explained that that was different. That Molly Weasley had always shoved her way into Harry's personal space to pretend to be his mother.

Jean was trying to be gentle with him. Caring and considerate was the way to go she figured. She didn't know why but she wanted so much to treat Harry like her own, to make him feel like he was her own. She wanted to be a motherly figure to him, but she had to be careful. Shoving and fussing her way over him wouldn't help, it would be like blind motherly affection – forced even.

But when she saw Harry's eyes fill with sudden weariness and fatigue, something had just come over her and she was helpless to try and stop herself before she reached across the table to worry over Harry to see if he had a fever from all that cold he was exposed to today when he went to the movies. But she had realized her mistake the moment his eyes had widened with fear. When he rushed out and Hermione had too, after him, she had stared at her offending hand, understanding what she had done.

Raising her hand towards the poor boy was to feel his forehead to see if he had a fever. But after putting herself in Harry's shoes for a moment as best as she could, she realized all he saw was an adult raising her hand. And what he thought was that the adult was going to hit him.

His eyes had grown distant and unfocused for a moment and she hated herself for every moment he was obviously reliving past similar incidents with his relatives. That simple action had triggered something far bigger than simple and she felt guilty. Guilty enough to not find sleep.

She sighed, once again turning over in the bed, this time throwing her hand over her husband to find some warmth to fall asleep. He also seemed troubled before he had fallen asleep, she could see that he was clearly worried for the boy, despite his daughter's obvious attraction to him. She was just about to fall asleep when she heard coughing and gaging coming from either Harry or Hermione's room.

She was up instantly and was pushing open the door that led to the noise to see Harry on his knees on the floor, vomit in front of him as he wretched, and the sound tearing her heart apart.

His head swiveled to her and his eyes widened. He shakily got up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the jumper, he looked so vulnerable.

"Mrs. Granger, I can explain – I can clean it!" He said groggily as he stumbled a bit.

She shook her head as she reached forward to hold him in her arms, his skin was burning! He stiffened but she begged herself not to make it deter her from what she wanted to do. "Don't worry, Harry, I'll look after it." She said and led him down the stairs, he followed willingly leaning into her, he looked ready to drop at any moment.

She sat him on the couch and rushed to the kitchen for a tablet and some water, making him drown both with words of encouragement, and soon, she had pillows and blankets from inside the basket under the couch for him to lay on, and even sooner, he was asleep.

She sighed, what was happening to this poor boy? She pulled the covers up and kissed his forehead soundly and cleaned Harry's room before she retreated to her bedroom, where sleep finally claimed her.

…

A/N: Harry's been true a lot during his time with the Dursleys, treatment, and abuse that I feel is bottled up deep within him. Obviously, when something small happens, you can expect that the same bottled-up emotions and feelings can be quite overwhelming. In this chapter, you saw something similar happen, where Jean's worrying gesture caused a flurry of memories and PTSD to overcome Harry. I feel that is a possibility and not an exaggeration because Harry simply has PTSD that he ignores.

Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter IX - Left in the Dark

Chapter IX - Left in the Dark

"Order!" Dumbledore shouted to the crowd of Wizengamot members lined up in their respective seats as the session of the Wizengamot meeting begun. His beard swung – almost widely - as he looked around to set every one a gaze that told them that he was the one in charge here. They all recognised him as their superior right now, especially the ones from the Light Alliance and least the ones from the Dark Alliance and Neutral, but quite honestly, he didn't care about them. His gaze swept through the crowd landing on familiar faces such as his Deputy Headmistress and Castor Greengrass who at least greeted him with a sniff nod which he returned in respect. While the man was in the Neutral side, he was powerful and Dumbledore could use him in the future – for the Greater Good, of course.

The chamber they were in was Courtroom Nine and was one of the most ancient rooms belonging to and occupying the Ministry of Magic and he felt the ancient runes hum with his magic. But as dark, as the room was, was it his imagination or was Madam Bones looking particularly stony tonight? It was part of her job, of course, to be intimidating and set off an aura of superiority in certain cases, but she usually sent him at least a nod of acknowledgement, as he knew the family since he had thought her grandmother sometime back – their alliance with him was essential for the Greater Good. It was truly a shame that her brother had passed, but he had died for a great cause.

He chose to leave that for later as his face found Lord Liam McCullum of House McCullum, a Pureblood on the neutral side, a big fan of being on the winning side yet always loyal to the Blacks and the Potters. What Albus couldn't understand was why he was glaring at him, what had he done that garnered so much unjustified cold shoulders?

Cornelius looked a bit peaky as he sat down in his seat next to the chair of Chief Warlock. The man was fiddling with his fingers as he nervously looked around to every important person who was in the room – which was essentially everyone. Albus remembered teaching the Hufflepuff Transfiguration back in Cornelius' days when Albus wondered how he reached into Hufflepuff when his traits were different from Hufflepuff's - well they were different from every house. In Albus' opinion, the Minister should have been in Slytherin.

"I will have order!" He shouted once more and he took satisfaction by the way everyone quietened at his command. Despite that Madam Bones and Lord Callum didn't seem to be in good moods this morning, the rest of the Wizengamot still seemed to be following his instructions and commands without a frown or question – just how he liked it. Being Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Head of the International Confederation of Wizards brought political power a lot knew not of, so respect was given to him without question. Defeating Gallert Grindlewald basically told them that he deserved it – and he felt he did.

He took a silent deep breath and cleared his throat, speaking with the rowdy Wizengamot members was usually tough work, for they seem to disagree on every motion they discuss or want to put in place. "Now that I have all of your attention," he spoke with his grandfatherly voice and he saw that some of the members who were particularly loud just a few seconds ago had the grace to look embarrassed – good, they should be. "The Wizengamot session for the 18th of December, 1994 has hereby begun. Who would like to start us off?"

Amelia, he noticed, looked as though she had something to say but was holding back and he wondered what it was – if only she had joined the Order of the Phoenix back then, then he would have had control over her and she would have told him so many things that were happening within the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't know then, that she would become the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in fact, the reason he had chosen her brother for the Order, was because he thought that he would be the Head of the DMLE, but he died, but for a good cause nevertheless.

The room was silent as everyone waited for another to speak. There was never a Wizengamot session when one wasn't needed so that this was called in the middle of the month instead of the usual end of the month session, said that someone had something to say – something important to say, and what fatigued Albus, was that he didn't know either. Being in the dark about something that would require an impromptu Wizengamot session was a new feeling to him – he hoped this would be the last time too.

He was somewhat expecting it, but it seemed to still surprise him when Madam Bones stood up from her seat, "I will, Chief Warlock," she said with her chin held high and gaze strong and set on Albus' own. Was it his imagination or did he see some anger in her eyes? He hated being in the dark!

"Madam Amelia Bones, of House Bones, will take the stand," Albus said and he watched as the witch walked towards the middle of the courtroom where she took a deep breath that Albus was sure he alone had seen. Taking deep breaths meant she was nervous – Albus might use it against her later if whatever she had to say went against him in some way or another. He was a powerful wizard and thus brought an intimidating posture at times.

"Members of the Wizengamot, Chief Warlock, Minister for Magic, I wish to speak about a topic that we've all ignored over the years that could change the truth as we know it!" She said and Albus' eyebrows furrowed, what in the name of Merlin was she speaking about? "I'm here ladies and gentlemen to question the events that took place on the 31st of October, 1981."

The gasps that followed that statement echoed through the hall and it took Albus' Occlumency skills not to do the same, was she talking about what he thought she was talking about? Amelia shook her head as Albus called for order once more and fired another cannon blast that seemed to do the trick. "No, no," Amelia said, "I'm not speaking about what happened with the Potters - not directly anyway, I'm here to speak about events that happened shortly afterwards."

Albus felt a sudden feeling of dread wash over him, he knew what she was speaking about. Was that the reason that she and Lord McCallum were giving him the cold shoulder? Did they find out one of his deepest, darkest secrets? He hoped not. How this went around the Ministry without him knowing, or at least, without people who were loyal to him and would inform him, knowing was beyond him. He really did hate being kept in the dark. He could have stopped this before it had even started if he had known.

"Hem, hem," came the voice of a woman even Albus despised. She was, of course, Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself. It seemed out of sorts to see her in her Wizengamot robes and not her usual pink, he could still remember the session where she proposed the robes be pink for her own benefit and comfort. Albus was only glad that as headmaster, he didn't have to teach, and that meant he didn't have to teach the Slytherin named Dolores Umbridge. The complaints all the teacher had about her always made him thank Merlin he wasn't teaching her.

"Madam Umbridge, is there something you would like to say?" Dumbledore asked as sweetly as he could, that woman's voice could crack glass even if she didn't try, so he tried to prepare himself for the worse.

"Yes, of course, Chief Warlock, why else would I have interrupted?" She asked sweetly with a small smirk on her lips, her toad-like demeanour somehow deepening to a point that Albus had to try not to lose eye contact with her. Albus would not be pushed around in a room where he was seen as superiority though and made sure Dolores remembered who that he was.

"Do remember who you are speaking to, Madame Umbridge," he said and he took satisfaction to see that she was annoyed with being inferior to him, "now if you may, please continue."

Dolores sniffed and sent Albus a short cross-eyed glare before she turned back to the woman impatiently waiting in the centre of the room, and her bittersweet smile returned, and Albus wondered if that woman had ever seen how ugly she looked in a mirror – had seen even seen a mirror before?

"As I was saying, Amelia," she started, "I do hope that you are not speaking about the man who himself brought upon the doom of the Potters, as well as the doom of the son of an Order of Merlin receiver and 19 muggles," she said and Albus noticed the malice in her voice when mentioning 'muggles' even though his heart was beating a little faster, too fast for a man of his age, he would say.

Bones smiled as she clasped her hands behind her back, listening to the murmurs of disbelief and disgust coming from the crowd of the Wizengamot, "That is, actually, the topic I would like to broach this morning." She said and Albus willed his heart to stop thudding, at least he had placed an anti-perspiring charm on himself this morning, despite the cold weather. The crowd was in an uproar and it took multiple canon blasts not only from him but the Aurors to quieten down the Wizengamot members.

"As I understand it," Madam Bones continued after the room was once more quietened, "Barty Crouch Sr., our former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and who is responsible for Sirius Black's imprisonment, has taken a sick leaf, so I call upon his secretary Percival Weasley, to inform us, the unknowing Wizengamot members if the man in question, Sirius Orion Black, has ever had a trial that proved whether or not he should be in Azkaban prison."

Albus frowned deeply as he looked at the redhead that looked pompous to be called in such an important meeting. He was at the bottom of the set of seats of course, for House Crouch wasn't such a powerful Pureblood family, but the Weasley son didn't seem to mind the least as he checked his superior's files for Sirius Black's – Albus already knew the answer though and from the looks of other Wizengamot members, they did too.

Poor Percival seemed to deflate as he read the folder on Sirius Black as he turned back to the current Head of the DMLE, "I – " He cleared his throat embarrassingly, why had his voice decided to crack in a courtroom that had the most influential people in Wizarding Britain and had walls that echoed every little noise? "I'm afraid not, Madam Bones." He said rather nervously, Albus couldn't blame the lad for getting nervous though.

Amelia raised her eyebrows at the crowd of grumbling Wizengamot members, "We simply cannot have that," she said, "despite the knowledge we currently have, and we cannot prove that is true without a trial. The Ministry of Magic is known for centuries to be a fair and just organisation, we can't have a man being sent to a gruesome place like Azkaban without any proof!"

Albus cleared his throat, and with some inner satisfaction, noted that everyone's attention was now on him, waiting for his say in the matter, for it was usually the official decision. As much as he feared the freedom of Sirius for his own reasons, he didn't want them to know, he wanted to be seen as the one who wants justice, who wants the right thing to be done. "I say, we have a vote," he declared, "however, I wish to hear the Minister's own opinion of the matter before we make an initial decision."

He knew about the Minister's personal despise and hatred for the man, and he knew that he heard Severus' own perspective and testimony of the events that transpired on the night of the full moon, so he could subtly throw off the trial without anyone really knowing – all he was asking for was an opinion after all. How brilliant was that?

He watched as the Minister nervously stood and cleared his throat, "I agree full-heartedly with Madam Bones on this matter, for the Ministry should be seen as the people who are making the right decisions for not only Magical Britain but the people who belong in it. Also, the request of this trial is being demanded by someone who we cannot defy, Lord Black, who basically owns 1/3 of the Ministry," he sat down as the rioting began and Albus was speechless. Lord Black? He didn't know that Arcturus was still alive! He didn't know that Arcturus would even care that much about Sirius. Then it stuck Albus, Sirius was Arcturus' heir, if Sirius was to die, then the line of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black would end.

The Blacks owned 1/3 of the Ministry, the Potters owned another 1/3 and the Longbottoms and the Greengrass' shared the final 1/3, so the Blacks basically owned a good proportion of everyone's influence.

After the room was quietened, Albus spoke once more, "Now that we have the Minister's opinion and words, all in favour of disallowing Sirius Orion Black a trial?" He asked, and no one raised the wands as no one wanted to face the wrath of the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Even Umbridge looked a little frightened. Although everyone already knew the answer, it was required of him to ask the question, "All in favour of allowing Sirius Orion Black a trial?" He asked and everyone raised their hands, only a few like the Notts and the Malfoys choosing not to vote at all.

Once it was decided, Dolores had another question, "How is it are we going to speak to Mr. Black if he is on the run?" She asked.

Amelia cleared her throat, her smile from seeing that Sirius would have a trial turning back into her tight-lipped frown despite her inner glee, "It is apparent that Lord Black has appointed a Regent for his house to look after his affairs until he is once more in Britain – the Regent, Remus Lupin, knows where Sirius Black is."

As the Wizengamot members started to murmur, Albus sat back in his chair knowing he had to speak with Remus. He said it before, and he would say it again – he hated being in the dark!

...

As the unusually eventful Wizengamot session ended, Albus hurried to the man he had given an education, to speak with him. He had seen in the werewolf in the crowd of guests and wished to know some more about what was going on under his nose. Luckily, the man was still here and hadn't left, he was speaking to Madam Bones who was chuckling at something or the other. He didn't miss the way Amelia frowned when she saw him approaching, he'd deal with that later. One thing that was happening under his nose at a time. What was weary about that sentence was that it said he had more to deal with.

"Remus, my boy, such a surprise to see you again – and at the Wizengamot no less, you didn't seem like a political person back in your school days." Albus said, and he smirked inwardly, he made sure to add that 'student' part in the sentence, for it would remind the man that it was him who placed him in Hogwarts in the first place. He wanted to add that it was such a surprise to see him in proper clothing, but he felt that it wouldn't be good for his public image.

The man turned to him and his grey eyes pierced Dumbledore's own blue ones. Thank Merlin, he doesn't know Legilimency, Albus thought. What was unfortunate was that Remus did know Occlumency because of the war, so Albus couldn't reach into his mind and get what he wanted. The man was clearly under the protection of the House of Black anyway, so Albus wouldn't have tried in the first place either.

"Albus, what a pleasure to see you again!" He said and the men shared a firm handshake. How was Remus suddenly cheerful? Wasn't the full moon a few days ago? Albus connected the dots, Remus had to be in contact with Sirius, who was supposed to be out of the country on his orders. What was the world coming to?

"I'll leave you gentlemen to speak," Amelia spoke up as she broke her strict demeanour and shared a brief hug with the werewolf, "I'll see you, Remus," she then turned stony and to Dumbledore and tilted her head, "Albus." She said and walked away. Albus' eyes almost narrowed, could someone please explain what was happening?! He sighed inwardly and turned back to the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor with the best smile he could fake.

"I can't say, Remus, that I wasn't surprised that you're now the Regent of House Black, as that would be a lie," he said, "how did this happen?" He then asked.

Remus smiled as if he was enjoying a memory and answered Albus, "I'm afraid that I can't answer you, Albus," he said. "Private business."

Albus couldn't hold it anymore, "Remus!" He said urgently, "I need to know how you're in contact with Sirius, I must speak with him! You must tell me now!"

Remus' eyes hardened and Albus wasn't sure if he was fully looking at Remus. It seemed that the wolf inside of him was awake but quiet, but still there, ready to pounce and rip apart. "Albus, may I remind you of the Pureblood Politics?" He asked and Albus reluctantly shook his head, he knew that the Regent couldn't speak about anything concerning the personal and private business for the house he was regent for. He had just hoped that as... Albus Dumbledore, Remus could have made a little exception. He guessed wrong apparently.

"Right," Remus nodded, "I'll see you at the date appointed for the trial, Albus. Until then." He then left to the lifts, leaving Albus, a man who was left in the dark.

...

Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter X - A Peck Goodnight

Chapter X – A Peck Goodnight

Hermione woke up with the sun in her eyes and once more tossed in her beds as she begged sleep to once more claim her, for she felt as though she hadn't slept a wink last night, despite the fact she loved sleeping in the coldness of the winter nights.

The nightmares had plagued her the entire night and she wondered if that was how Harry felt almost every day, waking up even in the middle of a cold night, covered in sweat as your body heaved as you tried to catch your breath. She didn't know, but something told her that his nightmares were much worse than hers.

Besides, her nightmares weren't that bad, they only consisted of Harry dying to the beating of the Dursleys or something quite gruesome like that. In hindsight, she acted quite immature last night, waking up in tears at the thought of Harry falling off a bicycle because the Dursleys had sabotaged him and had broken his nose. She was sure that Harry had worse nightmares than her.

She sighed as she finally sat up in her bed, her legs tangled in her sheets and blankets and the tons of pillows she had to protect her from the frost of the winter night and looked out the window, where the sun was barely seen in the distance, she could tell, quite obviously, that it was early morning and a part of her wanted to just drop back down into her bed and fall right back to sleep, but an even larger part of her brain reminded her that she would most likely have nightmares again.

The view and the feeling of Christmas just made the thought of snuggling cosily in her blankets, though, so difficult to oppose and she was sure that she would have to tear herself out from her bed if she wanted to actually get up.

Waking up in her room was different than waking up in her dormitory back at Hogwarts, and she didn't only mean that she woke up at Hogwarts with an even better view than back home – where she looked only at the universities of Oxford. At home, she felt a sense of comfort and independence while at Hogwarts she felt cramped and insecure. The other girls in her dorm were usually gossiping very loudly, irritating her when she tried to sleep or study – sometimes even intentionally, and she had gotten mad tons of time when they spoke about Harry. What made her insecure were the snide comments they always made whenever she walked around in her bathrobe or sleeping clothing, they were generally just rude.

Someone she actually made a friend within Gryffindor Tower that was a girl though, was Ginny Weasley, and she really hoped that the redhead daughter of Mrs. Weasley didn't feel upset or mad with her because of the row she and Ron had. Her only companion whenever she wasn't with Harry, was Ginny, and she really wanted the girl to remain her friend.

To be quite honest, she hadn't really seen any other of Ginny's friends before. In fact, the only person she had really seen Ginny with was the blonde Ravenclaw whose name was Luna Lovegood, despite what she heard everyone else call her: Loony Lovegood. She had never spoken to Luna, but her dreamy state of mind made her a bit edgy since Hermione was always the one who focused thoroughly. Hermione, though, knew better than to judge a book by its cover and decided she'd get to know the blonde Ravenclaw better before anything else.

Besides Ginny though, she was sure that the only other classmates she had ever spoken to and actually had a reasonably good time with were Susan Bones in Ancient Runes class and Daphne Greengrass in Arithmancy. Neville too was hilarious when he wasn't all shy and nervous. Dean Thomas was friendly to her sometimes, but she never really considered him a friend, just a friend of a friend and she wouldn't even dream of considering Seamus Finnegan an acquaintance, for he was too obnoxious and disrespectful to not only her but every other girl in the castle. He had no right whatsoever to objectify every girl that walked down the corridor as if they were a piece of meat.

She sighed, wondering that if the incident with Ron in the common room before they left for home, would leave her with only one best friend. She knew somewhere deep in her gut that she shouldn't have encouraged Harry to become friends with him once more. She should have told Harry the things she heard him say and pretended to ignore as she wanted to believe that Ron's jealously was petty and that Ron would come to his senses. But to see her Harry like that, so drowsy and depressed that he lost his first friend, made her want to make everything better and it seemed then that the only way to make him better was to get him back Ron. She wished for once in her life that she hadn't listened to that nagging voice in her head that wanted her to do the right thing. It was also the first time that she wished Harry never listened to her.

But Harry was there, and he would always be, whether as a best friend or something more, he would always be by her side, as everything else – any other possibility – seemed too impossible to even think too much of. His loyalty was overwhelming and his bravery and even his recklessness were enough to make her weak in the knees. She loved to imagine that he had fought that Hungarian Horntail for her, that he was so angry at the Basilisk in second year for what it did to her, that he killed it. A girl could dream after all, and boy, the dreams she had about her best friend…

She blushed a little as she finally slid to the side of the bed and got up, her morning stretches seeming to ease the stiffness in her back and hopefully erasing the nightmares in her head. There were things to do today, and she intended to get it done. But there was something significant that stood out today, and would definitely stand out on any day of the week for the rest of her life, and that was to find out if Harry was alright. Many times last night, she was so tempted to go and check her best friend to see if he was alright, she had even stood by his door for an entire three minutes contemplating whether or not to enter, but quite honestly, she was afraid to.

Obviously, she wasn't afraid of him, for she knew that Harry Potter would never intentionally hurt her. But she was afraid that he was already sleeping peacefully and if she entered, she would disturb his sleep. It was slightly paranoid if she did say so herself, but she couldn't help but think. Besides, another reason she didn't want to enter was in case he was indeed having a nightmare, and she could spook him when entering. She didn't want him to be traumatised, or have a bout of accidental magic. She wouldn't think her dad would like her sleeping in a boy's bed too.

Her mum, though, seemed to be in a teasing mood since that day she took Harry shopping and she was both annoyed with it and enjoying it. Even though it was her mother and typically it would have been weird, she felt so connected with her, as though they were just a couple of school girls giggling over the fact that one of them had a crush.

Hermione smiled to herself as she walked out of the room in her pajamas, wanting to see if Harry was alright before she took a bath and freshened up. But when she tentatively opened the door to Harry's bedroom, she instantly saw that he wasn't there. When the distant smell of vomit hit her nose, dread washed over her and soon she was rushing down the stairs, skipping steps and rushing to her parents and hopefully enquire what happened and hopefully see her Harry along the way.

The first thing she heard was the distant sound of whispering, but what was more distinct was the soft snoring that was coming from the living room and she instantly went there, not knowing that her parents' eyes were now fully on her, having waited all morning for this interaction between guardians and… queen guardian.

Guardian would be the right word Hermione would have chosen to refer to Hedwig and Crookshanks indeed. They were both on the sofa, Hedwig on the arm of the chair and Crookshanks on the abdomen of the person she had eyes for. They looked at her with their deep eyes, as though wanting to know her intent. But her only intent was checking on Harry, making sure that he was alright, it was basically the only thing on her mind right now. Looking at Harry, she didn't see that Hedwig and Crookshanks were looking at each other, and didn't see that Hedwig gave Crookshanks what seemed to be a nod.

She stepped forward and the animals shifted their position and she had a full view of her best friend and she almost gasped. He looked haggard. As though he had the worst night of his life. She leaped forward and landed next to him on her knees, one hand grabbing him and the other reaching forward to feel his forehead like a worried mother because essentially, she was.

He didn't feel as hot as she thought he would be, he did feel a little bit more warm than warm though and it was a good enough reason for her to be worried for her best friend. She was about to leap to her feet when a bowl was rested on the table behind her, starling her momentarily before she turned to see the retreating form of her smiling mother. She grabbed the bowl her mother had placed and soaked the rag in the water within it and placed it on Harry's head, hoping for the best and not knowing why her parents hadn't done this before she came down.

A little sigh escaped her lips as she checked under his neck a few minutes later, noting that his temperature had thankfully dropped. She soaked the rag once more before she placed it back on his head and stood up, ignoring the idea of kissing his forehead like she would have done if they were guaranteed to be alone. She turned to the animals and they seemed to be telling her that they would handle this for the time being and she trusted them. She trusted her familiar, obviously, and she trusted Harry's familiar because she was basically an embodiment of Harry's magic. The way Harry and Hedwig bonded so well with each other was simply majestic and she loved to watch them interact, it was attractive, really. At least, she thought so, and she never liked to question herself and her thoughts.

She walked into the kitchen, her parents were in close proximity with each other, but thankfully, they weren't kissing. She could still remember the awkward time when she walked into their bedroom when they were sharing what she hoped to be a simple goodnight kiss that looked particularly heated. She shuddered inwardly but smiled when they turned to her.

"You're alive!" Her father said and Hermione's eyebrow's furrowed at his exclamation. It was left to her mother to explain what John Granger meant, and her mum looked too amused for her liking.

"Good morning, sweetie," she said and hugged her daughter. It seemed to be a trigger for everyone to exchange good morning greetings but Jean could see that her daughter was getting impatient. "What your father means, dear is that he hadn't expected you to come out of there without at least a scratch on your arm. You see, ever since this morning, yours and Harry's familiars seemed to be on guard duty concerning Harry."

"Neither your mother nor I could get past those two rascals," her father added with a chuckle as he rubbed absently at his forearm. Hermione could just see the end of what seemed like a scratch that came from her own familiar. She had to hold back her laughter.

Crookshanks was rather lazy sometimes, as loathe as she was to admit it, so, to see him so attentive and energized just to protect her best friend and even teaming up with another animal to do so, was really adorable and she more secure about saying that Crookshanks was an embodiment of her magic. For magic was all about intent. And her intent was all about protecting, caring, and loving Harry.

"But it seemed like you could," her mother added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrow as her father walked back to the counter to prepare her breakfast. As much as she loved her mother and their little conversations, this was too much.

"Mother!" She whispered fiercely as an even fiercer blush crept on her cheeks. Her mother, though, seemed unphased as she smiled and turned back to stare at the boy on the couch. Usually, Hermione would see a spec of sadness in her mum's eye as she looked at Harry. Today, it was a mixture of pity, normal sadness, and happiness. Tapping her mother on the arm was all she had to do before her mother explained what happened last night and how she found Harry. Hermione had to hold herself back from shaking Harry awake to make sure he was alright.

Even though she didn't have much of an appetite, she ate her cereal until her bowl was empty, she was sure she was too much in her thoughts to notice that she was eating anyway. A few minutes later as she was washing the wears, her mother walked in, smiling as she saw her washing the wears and soon telling her that her grandmother had obviously said that they could visit. Her mother's reply to Hermione's question about if her grandmother knew about Harry, was a simple wink and Hermione instantly felt nervous.

She had heard stories when she was little by her father about how her grandmother, Betty Freeman, loved to tease him and mum when they were dating. Her grand mum was usually observant so if she understood that she had a crush on Harry, there would be teasing coming her way. Relentlessly, she hoped not. Her grandmother was simply the best in the whole world and every minute she spent with her, Hermione considered a blessing. She was so funny, teasing, and caring all at the same time and Hermione couldn't help but squeeze the living daylights out of her every time she saw her. She lived on a ranch.

It had been her grandfather's great uncle's and he inherited it – even though it wasn't really an inheritance, at least, they didn't consider it that, just a gift from a fallen man to his favourite great-nephew – and she always loved the scenery surrounding the place. Every morning she had been there before she would always wake up and just bask in all its glory, it was surreal and she loved it.

And then her grandfather died and it was left to her grandmother to take care of the building and the lands, she was so old and Hermione's mum was too busy and Hermione's aunt was in America, that she had to sell part of the land and all of their animals because she could no longer care for them. Hermione could have seen the pain in her grandmother's eyes six years ago even though she was five then and the thought of selling away something that was deeply connected to her husband, but she knew her grandma knew she had to. Hermione also thought that the lovely lady she called her granny felt a little useless at her age and thought that her selling part of the land and animals was her fault because she couldn't look after it.

Since she had opted to eat her breakfast first, she finally went to take a shower, ignoring her father's comment about how stinky she was, knowing that she'd get him back some time or the other. It was something she loved about her relationship with her father, they were so comfortable with each other and his teasing could never hurt her as the bullies' had. Every time she saw a father-daughter relationship, where one or the other was disrespectful to the other, or where there was no love but only awkwardness, she found herself thanking Merlin that she nor her father were not like that to each other.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard a groan. It was tiny and vulnerable and she was sure it was nothing more than a whisper, but she had heard it and she was rushing down the stairs a second later, and sure enough, it looked like her best friend was awake. He was fumbling for his glasses on where she assumed that he assumed was his nightstand and she found it adorable. His hair was messier than ever and his puffed and red cheeks from the coldness seemed to brighten his green eyes that looked better whenever they weren't behind those glasses. Scruffy, morning Harry was something she was sure she could get used to.

She allowed herself a smile as she bent down and took his glasses from the center table and gently placed it before his eyes. He blinked before he noticed her and his cheeks coloured. Once more, Hermione wondered if Harry had feelings for her that he didn't even understand. She wasn't going to be stereotypical and think that Harry would never feel that way about her, for she had hope that he did. She was never going to give up on it. She was Hermione Jean Granger after all. She was more concerned though because she wasn't sure if Harry was sure that he knew what he was feeling. And if he perhaps did, she wasn't sure if he knew what he'd do about it.

She was brought back to the real world when Harry let out an embarrassed cough, and she smiled at his embarrassment, maybe he did have a crush on her, she would wait though. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat up on his elbows, it was only now that she realised that they were only a few inches apart. If only she could close the gap without freaking him out. She didn't want to overwhelm him with feelings that were definitely new to him – new, thanks to the Dursleys.

"'Morning, Hermione," he said and his voice was a little husky. Hermione almost swooned, she could definitely get used to morning Harry.

"Good morning, Harry," she said with a sweet smile and she loved the way he instantly blushed, and she wondered if that was considered teasing him. "How are you feeling?" She asked, however.

Memories of the night before seemed to be bursting forth into Harry's mind as his expression turned thoughtful before a troubled look went over his features and Hermione was instantly concerned. "Harry?" She said.

But Harry didn't respond, his eyes immediately drifted behind her, and Hermione herself turned to the entrance of the living room to see her parents standing there with soup and tea. Harry did offer her a look though, and she knew that it meant that they'd talk about that later.

Morning greetings were exchanged and Harry was blushing hard as he was served breakfast in basically his bed right now, he seemed to be holding back tears. Hermione knew from the look in his eye that he was seeing her mother more of his mother every day. Her mother and Harry seemed to have bonded more last night and that they were seeing each other as family had Hermione nearly in tears herself. Someone to love him, a motherly figure more so, was exactly what Harry needed. It was the least he deserved and Hermione was ecstatic that he was finally experiencing actual motherly love. Her father though seemed oblivious as always and turned to Harry.

"So Harry," he said, "We've all decided that we'll go visit Hermione's grandmother this year, tomorrow actually, and we were wondering if that's alright with you."

Harry looked both ecstatic and torn at the idea, "I don't want to be a burden," he mumbled as he sipped at his tea.

Hermione's mother wouldn't have it though, "You won't be, Harry," she said gently, "just trust us." It seemed that was all Harry needed to agree. Because he trusted them. The look in Hermione's mother's eyes though, the gentle, caring, loving one that Hermione had been the subject to millions of times before, left no room for argument, it was hard to resist.

As much as she saw her mother and her best friend bonding, she noticed that her father and Harry were still tense around each other, she'd deal with that another time though. Or she'd leave them to deal with it themselves, for that seemed most likely to work.

Harry spoke though, and he held their attention once more like the night before, but unlike last night, he seemed to be more confident, "Err, there's a children's home near the park. Hermione and I saw it when returning from the theatre yesterday, and I was wondering if we could visit them – maybe on Christmas. I have a fair amount of money in the vault my parents left me, I could buy a few toys with it and share them with the children. If that doesn't disturb anything though – with the visit to Hermione's grand mum and all."

While Jean and Johnathon looked humbly surprised, Hermione thought that this was a typical Harry thing for Harry to do and simply smiled sweetly at him. Watching him blush as he looked at her, she realised that she was indeed teasing him a little, he didn't seem to mind though, judging from his own smile.

"Why, of course, Harry," Hermione's mother replied as Hermione's dad nodded in agreement, "In fact, I'm quite sure that my mum would love to join us. Hermione and I could bake some cookies and cakes, John could purchase some ice cream and some toys, and it'll be wonderful for the children."

They spoke for the next half an hour about the different things they could do to make the children from the orphanage experience a wonderful Christmas. Hermione couldn't be more proud of her Harry.

…

That night, as her parents slept in the next room, Hermione tip-toed as quietly as she could into Harry's room, where they had planned throughout the day to meet. True enough the door was open slightly and Harry was in there, sitting on the chair that belonged to his desk in front of the closed window. Outside in the moonlight, the snow was falling and Hermione found the sight majestic, and she wasn't talking about the snow. She coughed cutely and Harry turned to her with a smile, and she blushed breathlessly as his eyes traced the length of her body before snapping back to her face, where he too, blushed.

"So Voldemort's planning something?" Hermione asked.

"It seems so," Harry whispered back. They were both on his bed as they discussed the dream he had just told her about. "What I don't understand though," he said, "is what he meant by Barty Crouch Jr. being in Hogwarts. if I remember properly, he died in Azkaban."

Hermione nodded as well, "I read about it once, but what's more confusing, is why Voldemort wants you as an ingredient of some sort of potion. It's all very confusing, but we'll figure it out." She promised as she rested her hand on the back of his and offered a comforting smile.

Harry looked down at her hand atop his and turned his own so that they were intertwined. In a moment that he allowed himself confidence and willed himself to do it, he brought their intertwined hands together and brushed his lips at her dainty knuckles. Her face was bright red as she smiled dreamily at him- and was that a sigh, she breathed? She mumbled a good night hastily as they heard mumbling from the other room and pecked his cheek before she ran out of the room as he whispered his own good night. Merlin, what was she doing to him?

…

The next day was a bit busy as everyone packed up what they hadn't packed the day before and loaded it into the trunk of the Granger's car as they prepared to leave, and Harry didn't mind at all, for he felt once more that he was finally fitting in. A subtle thing like packing bags as they visited someone, made him feel so connected and comfortable with the family. Waking up to Hermione once more bouncing on his bed with the most beautiful smile on her face was something he could get used to as well. The smiles they were sharing more often and the way they were playing with each other's feet under the breakfast table this morning made his heart skip a beat every time he thought about it. He was literally addicted to her laughs and he was feeling better and better every minute he spent with her, which would probably be every minute in the entire day.

The awkwardness he first felt when he realised that he fancied her, was no longer there, he just kept his crush on her a secret, waiting for the right time to tell her. Where his confidence had come from? He honestly didn't know, but he was so comfortable with her that he was sure that he wanted to tell her. The way she looked at him too, was the same way Mary always looked at Jimmy in the film they watched the day before yesterday. Even in the car they as they drove to Hermione's grandmother's house, they sat together where their knees touched.

An hour later when they were closer to the house, Hermione's head fell on his shoulder and he turned to her questioningly but blushed when he saw she had chosen his shoulder as a pillow to fall asleep on. His stomach knotted uncomfortably as his heart fluttered and his cheeks blushed. His fancy for Hermione becoming stronger and stronger every minute – through every action she performed – and he loved it. He loved the feeling he was experiencing whenever he was with her – whenever he thought of her. Her gorgeous chocolate brown eyes so captivating, her hair as characteristic, so wild and stubborn as she was.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the smiles she was giving him, the smiles that always made him blush and it had took him a while yesterday before he actually realised that she was teasing him, so he decided he would tease her back. He placed one plan in action last night, and it was to peck her knuckles, and the way she blushed just proved how much of a success it was. He'd think of something else to do though.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the look and smile the Granger parents exchanged as they glanced at the rearview mirror and towards the teenagers in the backseat.

Waking up Hermione a few minutes later as her father announced that there were near, was harder than he had thought, as she seemed to be latched onto his jumper. But saying that her grandmother was near was enough to make her wake up and their heads collided as the Granger parents snickered in the seats upfront. The car suddenly jerked to a slower pace and Hermione clutched on the nearest support she could find to stop herself from hitting the back of her father's seat.

She sighed as the car continued past the speed bump and she turned to Harry, only to see his cheeks as red as the Weasley's hair. Then she followed his line of sight and when she spotted her hand so close to… there, she jerked her hand back with a nervous chuckle.

Her father though saved her the embarrassment of her wandering hands and mind by speaking, "We're here," he announced as he pulled the handbrakes and parked in front of a metal gate and a woman who was smiling. Hermione was grinning instantly as she opened the door and rushed into her grandmother's open arms.

"Gran!" She shrieked.

"Hermione!" Her grandmother smiled as she hugged her granddaughter. The grandmother of Hermione looked like a tough, warm woman who'd do anything to protect her babies, she was a bit taller than Hermione and had wrinkles that didn't prevent her smile from looking as radiant as ever. Harry could see her grey hair under her knitted beanie and her brown eyes despite the falling snow.

"My, look how much you have grown, dearie. It seemed like only yesterday you were learning to walk," Betty Freeman said as she pulled at Hermione's reddened cheeks, Harry wasn't ashamed to say that he wanted to do the same thing. Hermione's parents exited the car too, and he found himself doing the same thing, knowing doing anything otherwise would be offensive and rude.

When Betty was finished hugging Hermione's parents, she turned to him and Harry tensed as she smiled at him, "And you must be Harry Potter," she said and walked forward. And before Harry could do anything, she was hugging him. He tensed further, but she seemed to not mind as she realised him, "You see as handsome as Hermione described," she smirked. And Harry coloured, Hermione found him handsome?

"Gran," Hermione's said, scandalised as she seemed to shrink down into her coat.

"What, dear, it's only the truth isn't it?" The grandmother said innocently as she turned back to her granddaughter with a wink. The Granger parents seemed to be holding back laughter as Mr. Granger spoke.

"How about we get in the car and drive in, and we'll unpack before we catch up, yeah?" He suggested. Some nods and hums of agreement later and they were unpacking their bags into the large house of Mrs. Freeman.

"I'll show you your room," Hermione said as she led him up the stairs after she toured him around the downstairs. The snow was too thick for her to see the scenery Hermione had spoken about so much before, but she said he might see tomorrow morning, as it was already in the afternoon and the sun would be setting soon.

His bedroom was as large as the one back in the Granger's residence, larger even and even though he felt he didn't deserve it, Hermione's puppy face and peck on the cheek convinced him otherwise. Later as they were eating dinner, Hermione told her grandmother about their plan for the children's home and as Jean had said, she was ecstatic to go.

Hermione smirked at him from the other side of the table as she reached forward and mashed his foot with hers and after he gave her the same treatment they were in a secret war with each other. An hour and a half later he was in bed, his hand on his cheek where Hermione had once more, pecked him goodnight.


	11. Chapter XI - The Secret Passageway

Chapter XI – The Secret Passageway

Snow didn't stop the view from getting obscure, well that was what Harry thought when he woke up the morning after he arrived at the Freeman's residence and simply looked out the window. His room was located at the back of the house, right next to the one Hermione was staying in, he was glad to say, and the night before, Hermione had explained that when he woke up in the morning, he would simply have the most spectacular view he would ever witness since Hogwarts. From her obvious glee and his trust in her, he knew that he'd wake up to something great, but when he looked outside to the Freeman's ranch, he knew that Hermione had made one of the most understated statements that he'd ever heard her say.

He could see mountains in the background – actual mountains! And before that a forested area that travelled all the way up to the backyard of the Freeman's house where snow covered the acres of farmland that belonged to Hermione's grandmother. They were stables at either side of the farmlands, but they looked unused and a little dirty and old. He swore he could see an animal of some sort in it though, he couldn't tell what it was, however. What he could tell was that the view was indeed spectacular and he could tell why Hermione was so enthusiastic about it.

He took a deep breath, feeling as though he was getting more than he deserved, but crushing the thought as he remembered that Hermione told him time and time again, that he did deserve it, and he trusted Hermione – her words, no less.

She was in the room next to him, and he wanted so much to recuperate what she usually did to him – he wanted to wake her up, but not jumping on the bed, for that didn't feel endearing to him, it seemed so... unlike him. He blushed as he thought about kissing her awake, a peck even, but he wasn't sure he was ready for that. He wasn't sure that she was ready for that; that she even thought about him, the same way he thought about her.

He was in the bath in the bedroom a moment later, clothing and towel in hand and a few minutes later he came out fresh but frowning. For when he was in the bathroom, in front of the mirror his eyes had wandered to his own body. Normally, he wouldn't have given a second thought about his body, for if it wasn't fat, he didn't care much. But then the thought crossed his mind – what if Hermione was into... strong guys, muscles, and that sort of thing.

He did want to impress her, show her that he was the one – whatever that meant. So maybe, exercising could help with that – he'd write it down – not that he kept a book about Hermione!

He shook his head and took another look in the mirror attached to the door of his closet, and noticed that his eyes immediately wandered to his stomach and arms, he had to work out, he was getting more self-conscious about it. While Quidditch was great and all, and it was a fun exercise, he needed to do something more to get more... muscular, for Hermione.

He fixed his hair and made it look as presentable as it could. Despite it being reasonably short, but yet, not too short, it was still as messy as ever. His brows furrowed. Did Hermione like that? Messy haired guys? Suddenly, the thought of making his hair look less messy didn't seem as endearing as it did before.

He walked out the room and into the hallway, this had to be the largest house he'd ever been in. It was mansion-sized he was sure and even though small cosy cottages were endearing to him, he was sure he could live in a house like this without complaint.

Murmuring, he could hear, was coming from downstairs and dread filled him. Did Mrs. Freeman want everyone to eat breakfast together, and he had missed it? He didn't even think that it was that late. The thought of also impressing the grandmother of Hermione, was something he had to focus on, for Hermione's grandmother seemed to be protective of her, and Harry wanted to show her and he'd be able to take care of her.

It turned out that it was just the Granger parents and Mrs. Freeman that was downstairs and they were all working together to prepare breakfast while listening to the radio, that was playing Christmas carols. He hadn't heard a lot of Christmas carols before, but he knew that the name of this one, was Jingle Bells.

The sound of laughter filled his ears and he couldn't resist the urge to smile. They were clearly having fun, they were a family, they loved each other, and they had enough kindness in their hearts – an abundance, really – that they made him a part of their own family. They made him the happiest child in the world and he couldn't ask them for more – even though they insisted that he deserved it and so much more. The love and kindness they showed him were more than he could ask for, and he finally felt as though he was part of the family. He just wanted to be part of the family as something more than Hermione's best friend though.

"Good morning, Harry!" Jean said with a large smile on her face as she spotted him, a smile that was so much similar to Hermione's - and he loved it. Jean Granger was a flame, a sun of happiness and kindness and even though he had cooked for them, he knew he had to do something else to tell them he appreciated what they had done for him, for repay them for all they had done for him. Just as they had made this the best Christmas for him – even though Christmas day wasn't here as yet – he'd try his best to make this Christmas, one they would never forget. With that determination in his heart, he walked into the kitchen, greeted everyone, and did what he could, to help with breakfast. From the surprised and amused look from Mrs. Freeman, he knew he had done something right. He couldn't wait for Hermione to wake up.

Hermione had finally woken up about half an hour after they finished preparing breakfast and when she came down just to see who was awake and then retreat to her room to bathe, he relished the messy bed head look that he loved about her. He knew it was weird to find her morning breath endearing, but that didn't stop him from thinking it.

Breakfast was pancakes – simple but extraordinary when it was cooked with love and for the family – as cliché as that sounded to his ears, he loved the thought of it. Hermione had taken her bath hastily and had joined them just before they started to eat, and their usual game of foot battle was once again, making his stomach tighten uncomfortably. Mrs. Freeman didn't seem to notice, but she was sending teasing glances to him and Hermione, and from what he had heard of the woman from his best friend, he should get used to it.

Mrs. Freeman was quite the character, she was funny and she was tough and teasing, she had a way of insulting you funnily, that you wouldn't find offensive at all. Yet, whenever she was angry or frustrated, for instance, when she had dropped the frying pan this morning by accident, she could be quite the angry old woman. He wanted to stay clear of her as much as possible, so he wouldn't be a victim of her frustration and teasing, yet, he knew he couldn't. For he wanted to show her he was good for Hermione, and this was her house after all. She was the host of the family, and he was a guest that was required to be on his best behaviour. Avoiding and ignoring the lovely old lady, would be quite rude, wouldn't it?

After breakfast, he and Hermione retreated to her room to start their Christmas homework and hopefully finish some before the day was out, as much as they could, for Snape had given them a pile. He seemed to give Harry more, for a reason Harry was unsure of – Harry had expected the greasy old potions professor to act that way anyway, and besides he had Hermione to help him out, and she probably memorized the entire term's book already – he was willing to bet that she was already reading next year's textbooks, and learning them by heart.

It was when they were going up the stairs to her room, that the teasing started, "Remember to leave that door open, Young Lady. And don't get up to too much mischief, you two." Mrs. Freeman said and even from the stairs, and with the distance between them, Harry could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

Hermione though, seemed unphased by it, as though she had expected it, and rolled her eyes, "Yes, Gram!" She said back before turning to him with reddened cheeks, "You should get used to it soon. That's my grandmother for you. Come on now, our homework isn't going to finish itself, is it?" He shook his head with an amused smile as Hermione bit her lip and hesitantly grabbed his hand before pulling him up the stairs and into her room.

Her room seemed to be a personal library. Bookshelves bordered it and were basically the walls of the room as they towered high and mighty, books on every shelf. They were two tables on either side of the only object that told him that this wasn't a study, her pink - pink! - bed. Besides one of those tables was an elegant dresser-wardrobe combo that had Hermione's personal stuff on it. He pointedly ignored the clearly unopened and unused makeup box that rested next to the mirror– Hermione didn't need make-up to look beautiful, she was natural.

Hermione plumped down on her bed and pulled her book sachet out from under her table. Her table was neat as expected. Pens and quills and papers and parchments, a mixture of muggle and magic that he loved but was confused by as a question struck him, and was almost begging to be asked.

"Does your grandmother know?" He whispered as he sat next to her, closer than he would have before he knew he had feelings for her. As she stiffened, he felt as though he had gone overboard with his curious questions. But the way she then turned to him with sad eyes, and not hurt ones, had him hugging her in both relief that he hadn't upset her and comfort because she was clearly saying 'no'.

The way he and Hermione connected so much that they didn't need words to express their thoughts and feelings always made him giddy inside. He loved to think that it meant they were made for each other.

She sighed into his chest and just for insurance shook her head to confirm what he already knew. "She doesn't," Hermione whispered, "She's old Harry. As strong as my grandmother she is, she's still old, Harry. When we found out I was a witch, we were all shocked and mum was even frightened for a while – because of how unexplained everything was and because of the tales of witchcraft that were always around. At the same time we found out, Gram was sick – she still is, she's diabetic. We're not sure if the news of me being a witch would shock her enough for a heart attack, and we aren't willing to take chances – so we've kept it a secret ever since."

Harry couldn't imagine what it would take Hermione to keep such information away from her grandmother. It clearly took a lot, for Hermione looked so guilty as she rested in his hands. He hugged her tighter as he rubbed her back, taking a secret sniff of the shampoo she used this morning. He wanted to memorize everything – her smile, her teeth, her grin, her hair – everything. Hermione only spoke a few minutes later.

"We should start our homework," Hermione said, and he could almost hear her rolling her eyes, "Before Gram comes up and finds us like this. We wouldn't hear the end of it." Harry chuckled as he let go of her and soon they were working on their Charms homework. Both of them taking glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention.

When they were finished with their Charms homework, far quicker than Harry would have done it if he wasn't with Hermione, they decided to take a small break, where Hermione brought up a topic that hadn't been discussed since the night before yesterday. "I think we should prepare you for what's going to come," she said, "because after that dream – vision – whatever it is, we know that something's coming. And I feel that we should prepare you to the best of your ability."

"I agree," Harry nodded in all seriousness, "something is coming. Even if it isn't there's still the TriWizard Tournament that still poses a threat to me. There is something I do disagree with though." He muttered at the end.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as her brows furrowed cutely, he had to blink to come back to his senses.

"I think that we should both prepare," he said, "you just being my friend, puts you in so much danger – and I'm sorry for that." He raised his hand to stop her from saying otherwise, "But I've come to know that you'll always be my side, no matter, what, and I'm really thankful for that. I wouldn't be bloody alive if it weren't for you – Sirius wouldn't be alive if weren't for you! So, if you're going to be with me – face those dangers by my side as you've always been, and how I'd like it to always be, you have to prepare for them just as I will. Am I understood?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Hermione sniffed and with a silent shriek threw her hands around him and hugged him enough to bruise his ribs. "Of course, Harry. That was so beautiful – what you said." She mumbled into his ears.

He blushed, "Thanks." Though, as his body started to react to their proximity, he tried to change the subject. "How are we going to prepare?" He asked.

Hermione pulled back and Harry was thankful she didn't see how red and uncomfortable he was. She grinned excitedly as she turned back at him, a blush covering her cheeks as well, "Well, you see, that's how our visit to Gram's helps us."

Harry's look of confusion had her both wanting to kiss him right there right then but got her moving towards the bookshelf closest to her bed. He watched her interestingly, trying his best to keep his eyes off the inappropriate parts of her body, as she scanned the books until she found one that seemed to interest her. A large tome that looked less dirty than its neighbours.

Hermione then went ahead and softly yanked the book and Harry could only watch in amazement, as a secret passageway opened - and as an excited grin came upon Hermione's face.

There was a doorway and behind it, there was a staircase that led downwards, lightened by torches on the wall, and he knew that Hermione had just told him one of her biggest secrets. This was ought to be awesome, he was sure as he turned in awe to Hermione who was smiling shyly at the look he was giving her – those green eyes that he had, could pierce your soul and she really couldn't help it. What was good though, was that she was able to hide her dreamy sigh as a cough, and Harry didn't seem to realize.

"How did you know about this?" He asked her as he once more looked down into the staircase, he was barely holding himself back from rushing down there and exploring, but Hermione knew best and he was going to follow her into the unknown. The fact she already knew about this, told him that she knew where everything was and what to expect, so she could stop him from doing something reckless and potentially dangerous. Two words that seemed to be his constant companion.

Hermione smiled as she too looked down into the staircase before she turned back to Harry, "I found it after first year when I was more aware of magic," she stated.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked confused, as he turned to the staircase and back to his best friend with furrowed eyebrows, "Are you saying that this is magical? That this leads to something magical?"

Hermione winked at him as she pulled at another tome and they watched as the staircase was blocked from their view, replaced by the bookshelf that held the tome Hermione had first pulled to reveal it. "I'll tell you about it later," she whispered as she walked back to her bed and packed up their bags, "for now, it's lunch and I'm sure one or the other adult downstairs will come looking for us if we're not down there."

Lunch was quiet, yet they held small conversations. Harry could easily say that Mrs. Freeman's cooking was amazing, she was cooking an Asian dish called Fried Rice, and there was fried chicken with it and it was simply the best. He could even compare it to Hogwarts food because of how good it was. Hermione and he played their usual foot game, sending smirks and secret smiles at each other when they managed to defeat the other, and Mrs. Freeman seemed to love catching up with her granddaughter, daughter, and son-in-law.

What was sad to see, was the way Hermione had to lie about her school term, for Mrs. Freeman couldn't hear about the magical things that happened each term. He was quite glad that Hermione didn't bring up the TriWizard Tournament, for he was sure that he'd be in the center of attention if she had. That made him remember that the Granger parents hadn't said anything about the tournament he was unwillingly drafted into. Did they not know, or did they not want to bring it up?

Either way, he didn't mind them not asking him about it, he wouldn't have even had Hermione speaking about it, reminding him of the dangers of it, if it weren't for their plans to be prepared for it. As he thought about it, he was reminded that he hadn't cracked the clue that was the golden egg. He had, of course, brought it with him, not trusting his dorm mates except Neville right now, enough to keep it. Besides, he knew that Hermione would crack the code, anything else was simply unthinkable – she was brilliant like that.

As though she knew he was thinking about something serious, she tapped his foot, but unlike the times when they were just playing, it wasn't teasing, but questioning and when he looked up he saw her concerned expression, and he whispered, "Egg," to her, hoping that she would understand.

All she did was smirk and Harry knew already, that he didn't have to worry, for it was clear that Hermione knew what she was doing. They headed back upstairs after lunch, both starting their Potions homework and not entering the secret passageway because they wanted to wait for tonight. Hermione explained though, that if they were to enter now and spend an entire hour inside of it, her parents and grandmother would even be able to tell, even if they were to enter the room. This confused Harry, but he didn't mention it, because he knew Hermione would explain it later when they were guaranteed to be alone.

It was more than obvious that her parents didn't know of this secret passageway and that Hermione wanted to keep it a secret, so for the entire rest of the day, he kept his mouth shut as much as he could. For with the excitement running through his veins, he was sure he might blurt out something that shouldn't have been saying.

He didn't know if Hermione would have minded, he thought she would, but he figured there were times when she made an exception to his recklessness and stupidity, as though she enjoyed it – or had expected it. She knew him so well, and with the time they were spending with each other, he was getting to know her just as well too.

Even his former other best friend, Ron, didn't know him as much as Hermione did, for Ron wasn't interested in knowing him. Ron just wanted to be his friend, opting to find out things about him as days progressed further and not actually making an effort in knowing him. For instance, Ron thought that he liked chess when the only reason he played it was because Ron wouldn't give him any choice.

He was partially at fault for letting Ron do things that shouldn't have been done. Ron was his first friend after all, and whenever he saw something wrong the redhead had done, for example insulting Hermione before and after they were friends, he thought that if he told off the Weasley, they would stop being friends.

He knew now, after he saw Ron in a different light, that he shouldn't have let the redhead Weasley into his walls, into his life. Ron was there for something else, he knew that because the redhead had left him so quickly because of mere jealousy. If Ron was his real friend, like Hermione was, he would have obviously stayed with him, right? Supported him and helped him face the dragons. The Weasley had even kept the information about the dragons from him! Imagine if Hagrid hadn't said or done anything? He would have been burnt to crisps. He didn't fancy being dragon food either. It was only Hermione's smile from the other side of the table and her glances at him, that made him feel better after thinking about Ron Weasley's betrayal.

The night was lit with the flicker of the candle in his room, and the moonlight from the beautiful half-moon outside. Professor Lupin would be feeling quite wolfy tonight, he realized as he grabbed his glasses and placed them on, the brilliant Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor wasn't going to turn into a werewolf tonight, for it wasn't a full moon, but the man would still poke the wolf inside of him.

Speaking of the professor, Professor Lupin hadn't sent him any letters as of late, and he wondered why. The professor had spoken to him about how he didn't believe the news about him willingly entering his name into the TriWizard Cup, so Professor Lupin was not one of those people who despised him for getting drafted into the tournament and nor was the man still guilty after the incident in the Forbidden Forest, as both him and Hermione had insisted he not.

He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his head as he walked out of the room sneakily with his golden egg in hand. Hermione and he were about to enter the secret passageway as they had agreed on, and she had informed him to bring the egg with him, as she thought she could find something about it in the place they were going.

As much as her sneakiness and mysteriousness was... intoxicating and made the heat rise to his cheeks, he was getting beyond anxious to find out what she was speaking about – where she was taking him – where the secret passageway led to.

The Granger parents and the Freeman matriarch were in their rooms, and even though Hermione explained that there was no reason for him to be worried, he couldn't help it. Mr. Granger's quiet snores though were a confirmation he was sleeping, and Harry took comfort in knowing – and not assuming.

The Granger was being warmer to Harry and being more friendly and subtle about his jokes, and about the way he acted around him, and Harry was starting to recuperate, appreciating the effort the man was putting in to make him feel welcome. Quite honestly, if he could remember properly, he had once accidentally called the man John some time or the other this evening. Even though it was a slip-up, it went to show that he was indeed warming up to the man he knew as Hermione's father.

Hermione was laying in her bed when he arrived obviously and unsurprisingly reading a book and he just had to smile at her love for reading, it was adorable really. She was on her back, facing away from him reading what he deemed to be a large tome of some sort and his eyes immediately drifted down to her lower back and beneath. His cheeks reddened, she was wearing more... transparent clothing tonight, though he couldn't understand why since it was quite cold thanks to the fact that it in the middle of Christmas. He could just make out the outline of her...

He felt perverted and he coughed as he held the golden egg in a way that would look casual yet hide his reaction to her natural body beauty. What poor Harry Potter didn't know, was that this was all part of a plan. A plan that Hermione thought had been executed perfectly, and thanks to the makeup mirror placed on her desk trained on the door, she was able to see – with pleasure – where Harry's eyes wandered. That he had placed the golden egg... there, showed that he did think of her that way.

She turned to him, her face a mask of normal delight at seeing him while she hid her undying glee at having Harry Potter, her crush, check her out, and spoke, "I assume you're ready then?" She asked and she smiled inwardly as he blushed handsomely before nodding shyly. Merlin, could a guy be this adorable?

She nodded and opened the secret passageway, purposely leading the way, because the giddiness had gotten to her, and she was swaying her hips just a little, loving to know from their shadows from the candlelight, that he was still checking her out. She didn't feel objectified, she felt beautiful. She felt hot and bothered.

When they reached the end of the staircase, Harry saw a plain oak door with a golden and silver striped doorknob and he watched as a blushing Hermione opened the door. Why did she seem so flushed and red?

The door creaking brought him out of his thoughts and with a deep breath, he followed Hermione through it and simply gasped at the beauty of what he saw.


	12. Chapter XII - The Silver Lake

Chapter XII - The Silver Lake

They were in the mountains that he had seen this morning when he had awoken, not inside of it but right outside, and it towered over them thankfully not blocking the moonlight that was their only light source apart from the candle Hermione held in her hand. What was more surprising was the fact that it wasn't snowing, in fact, it looked as though that the surroundings were in the middle of summer, while out in the distance, he could see the snow falling on the other mountains and the leafless trees and more significantly, the Freeman's house!

There were sparking trees and bushes around them, forming a circular open area, the bushes filled with berries and flowers. If he squinted, he could see that there was an entire flowery acre of land somewhere in the middle of two of the mountains, each flower alight with life and literal light that left him gobsmacked. What took the show though, was the lake in front of the mountain he and Hermione were in front of. It was wide and formed a perfect circle, but what was attention capturing, was the colour of it – it was sparkling silver!

He turned to Hermione, behind them was the door they had just come out of, though, it was made out of rock and there were bushes over it and them that formed an arc. He could kiss her with the giddiness he was feeling, and for a moment, he was seriously contemplating it, but it seemed that he was staring at her for too long, as she threw him a concerned expression that made her look much more beautiful in the light of the moon, Merlin, how badly he wanted to kiss her.

"How?" He asked as he looked around him, he didn't want to kiss her, because he wasn't sure she would kiss him back. Besides, as beautiful as this was, he wanted their first kiss – if they ever had one – to be on a more special occasion. He ignored her slight look of disappointment and continued to stare pointlessly at the mountains.

"Magic," he heard her whisper, and he turned back to her, it seemed that she was once more herself as she walked forward and towards the lake that had attracted him, "Remember when I said I found it after first year, after I was more aware of magic," at his nod, she continued, "well, yeah. It was another year at Gram's and I was just so attracted to that particular book, it was as if it was calling me – begging me to open it. And I could have told even then, that it wasn't dark magic. It felt familiar in a sense, and it felt comfortable and warm. I've come here ever since I found out about it, and I wanted to share it with you," she turned to him with a smile and he instantly smiled back.

"When I said that my parents and Gram wouldn't find out we even left the house, I meant it." She explained, "When we're inside of this, it's like we're inside a dome of time. Even if we're in here for an entire month, when we arrive back outside, we're basically going out the same time we went in, it's practically pausing time!"

Her face was lit with excitement and thirst for knowledge, and Harry knew that his best friend wanted to find out more about the magic that roamed around them – she wanted to understand it. He had to admit that the magic that was surrounding him, was pleasurable and warm, he felt content.

"That's incredible," he whispered as he looked around once more, he really couldn't get enough of this wonderful place. It felt as though he was inside of magic itself, and he wanted to bask in all its glory.

"It's wonderful isn't it?" Hermione asked as she walked up to him.

"It really is." Harry said as he turned to her, "but as lovely as it is, why have you brought me here?"

"As I was saying earlier, we should prepare for the tournament and I figured that here's as perfect as it could be." At his questioning look, she continued, "Have you ever heard of the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts?" She asked.

"No, I haven't," he mumbled.

"Well, the Room of Requirement is a special, secret room inside of Hogwarts, that gives the user whatever he or she requests." She explained, "The magic inside of here is something similar, for instance, if you were to ask for a chair to sit, it would appear for you. Try it."

Harry looked at her questioningly, there was a part of him that doubted this could happen. But then again, magic always found ways to surprise him, and besides, he trusted Hermione. So, he closed his eyes and - almost desperately - wished for a chair to appear.

Magic flowed through him and swirled in his surroundings and soon he was thrown off his feet as something knocked him over by the back of his knees, and then, he was sitting on a comfortable sofa as he stared wide-eyed at his brilliant best friend.

"We're going to use this, to train you for what's to come," she explained, blushing slightly at his heated gaze, "There's another secret here, one that could help us greatly with the tournament and with Voldemort," she walked towards a particular patch of the bushy bushes and pulled it aside to reveal something he couldn't make out as yet, and silently ushered him in.

To describe it, he'd say that it was basically a cosy outdoor library. There were about a dozen bookshelves, each shelf packed to the hilt with books and formed a semicircle, where in the middle was a simple two-seat loveseat and a desk that was neatly assorted with thick tomes and quills and parchment.

There was no flooring beneath it, just simple flower-scattered short green grass that looked just as comfortable, plush, and soft as any other cosy mat would.

"This is where I come to, whenever I'm at Gram's and need peace to study." Hermione was explaining, "Plus, these books," she gestured to the books neatly packed on the shelves, "were here before I discovered this place. They belonged to someone else, I haven't found who as yet, but someone occupied this place before – someone magical."

Harry turned to her, his eyebrow quirked, "The only entrance I can see is the one that connects to your grandmother's house – are you saying that maybe the someone magical who was once here, is someone from your family?"

She nodded shyly, "It seems like a good explanation to me," she said, "this house has been in my family for years, so maybe - just maybe - I have a magical ancestor of some sort. Maybe, I'm not really a Muggleborn," she shrugged.

"Muggleborn or not, you're still the brightest witch of your age," he told her, relishing her blush and shy smile.

"Thanks, Harry," she mumbled. She then turned serious, and Harry knew that she was getting ready to work now. "Now, the reason I asked you to bring the egg, was because they are tons of books here, each about different things. I speculate that the egg isn't just screeching. I'm positive that it's a language of some sort - a magical language, of course. It's quite logical to think so."

"So, we scour the library?" Harry asked meekly as he looked at the books around him. There really was a lot of them and it seemed that the bookshelves in front, only hid more bookshelves at the back. He turned back to his best friend, who grinned in excitement.

"We scour the library."  
...  
He was confident in the magic that swirled around him, so he knew that basically, they had all the time in the world to find out any information they could about the egg – or rather, thanks to Hermione's assumption - the language the egg was speaking.

He presumed that it was some time around – or even, past – midnight, as he felt some tiredness wash over him. But even as his eyelids felt droopy, he kept on looking. Magical languages were apparently a broad subject and they were many that he had to browse so he could find one that matched the description of the egg's.

He had searched the Goblin language, the troll language, whatever language of whatever magical creature you could think of, but finally, just as he was beginning to lose hope, he found a book on magical languages – the only one that really spoke extensively about the different ones, and he called Hermione, who didn't seem as tired as he was – in fact, she looked as excited as ever.

"The merman language?" She asked as her eyebrows furrowed. He simply handed her the book and pointed out the page and paragraph he had read that was worthy enough for him to call Hermione. He didn't think he had read so much before.

He watched her as she read the paragraph with aware and focused eyes, she seemed to be analysing every sentence there was in that paragraph and he was entranced by her lips, red and a little pouty, perfect for him to press his own ones on. She was silently speaking to herself as she read and he was captivated by the movement of her lips. She was beautiful.

Behind her, the half-moon was high in the sky illuminating what the candles around them didn't, and with the sparkling stars around her, he could easily say that this was a better view of both Hogwarts and Mrs. Freeman's ranch.

"Brilliant, Harry," he heard her say, and abruptly he stopped his guilty pleasure of staring at her beauty and turned to her. Her eyes were sparkling with joy and excitement, "I can't believe it was the merman language all along," she was saying, "But I should have known, I've read about them briefly before – stupid me!"

"Hey, you're not stupid," he grinned at her, "You're probably the least stupid person in the world, absolutely adjacent to my place on that list."

"Merlin, you've spent too much time with me, look at the way you're speaking." She quipped, "I never thought I'd hear the day Harry Potter would say adjacent. The day you'd use such nice synonyms for simple words."

He stuck out his tongue at her – showing his maturity but smiled nevertheless. He closed his eyes as he sighed sadly, "I guess it's always been Ron," he said, "I guess that he's corrupted me in a sense. While you've always encouraged me to study, to do better, and to pull up my socks, Ron always wanted me to play chess, to sit back and be careless of what was really important."

She smiled sadly, "it's best not to think about it." She said, "We shouldn't focus on the past."

He smiled in return, she was right – of course, she was, she was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. That she was right, was something expected, wasn't it?

"So, what now?" He asked.

She turned a little red in the cheeks as she turned to the lake and back to him. "It's the merman language," she explained, "so we can't understand if we aren't underwater."

"So, we're going to swim?" He asked with raised eyebrows as he tossed the golden egg he had almost forgotten about back and forth in his hands.

She blushed even further, "Well, your pajama bottoms can work for swimming trunks, and my undergarments are basically my swimming suit, so… yes, we're going swimming. In the middle of the night, in the middle of winter no less, - but we won't feel the coldness because of the magic around us."

Bloody Merlin, was she trying to mentally kill him? "Er – sure, I suppose it's for the best." He gulped as they both turned around and started to strip to their undergarments.

The water was indeed not cold when he touched it with the tip of his toe, testing its temperature. He should have expected anyway, for his surroundings and Hermione's words told the truth of what season it was inside of the dome – as he opted to call the place they were in. It was that or the dome of magic. Either one of them described what he was in, so either could work.

He shivered nevertheless, but with exhilaration and anticipation as he waited for Hermione to join him so they could listen to whatever note the golden egg had for them as a clue about the next task.

He wondered what it could be. Perhaps it had something to do with the golden egg, quite literally. Maybe they had to pluck another one from the nest of a goose or something disastrous like that? An idea such as that made him internally chuckle.

While he knew that whoever was creating these tasks was completely mental and borderline insane, he didn't think that they'd do something overly ridiculous. They had done enough by putting the dragon's eggs in danger during the first task, he wouldn't like them to endanger goose eggs for the next one.

But then again, there was something that told him that the task was going to be aquatic. If their assumptions were proven to be accurate – Merlin, he was really spending a lot of time with Hermione – and the language of the egg was merman, then he could say that the second task had something to do with being underwater, or just being in the water.

He didn't think he'd have a hard time with it, for Hermione had been such a wonderful professor when it came to teaching him how to swim, and even though they hadn't been as lucky as that impromptu pool day where winter seemed to take a break to have another pool day, he remembered everything that was taught to him.

He closed his eyes softly as he tossed the golden egg back and forth in his hands, and wondered if Hermione was so good at teaching him to do something, did she want to teach other people, other students? He thought about it with a smile, Professor Hermione Granger.

He wondered what subject she'd teach, while she liked Charms and Ancient Runes, she seemed particularly interested in Transfiguration because Professor McGonagall was her favourite teacher. If he had a say in it, he'd say that Hermione would make a wonderful Transfiguration Professor or even an Arithmancy Professor.

He had good knowledge about Transfiguration, but it was still limited and there were times where Hermione'd have to help him more than often because he was slacking. But he knew absolutely nothing about Arithmancy. He didn't take that subject.

Come to think about it, he didn't take many subjects – he didn't take much of the good subjects, the ones that would help him to get a job in the Wizarding World. While the Auror professions interested him to a no-end, there was still a possibility that he failed the Auror Academy, or something else equally as disastrous.

If he had taken those other classes he would have been able to get another occupation if being an Auror didn't suit him. But he hadn't, and it was because he was slacking off, not wanting to put in all the hard work.

He wasn't going to blame Ron for his slack, because, he could have made the move by himself, he should have said to Ron what had to be said, that they should be taking their school work far more seriously than they were.

It was his mistake, and his mistake only.

Even though he was blaming himself, there was a part of him that still blamed his former best friend for encouraging the slack.

He did know now, though, that he had to make a difference, he had to really start to pull up his socks – he'd speak to Hermione about it later when they were finished with what they were about to do. He did know what he wanted to do, though, and it was to get more subjects, different ones, and perhaps drop one that was really getting on his nerves, Divination.

Getting his death predicted almost every month by a professor who could hardly see past her nose wasn't endearing to him and he certainly wouldn't mind not having to join her class again. Besides, since the beginning of the last term, Professor Trelwany wanted to pick a seat and stay there for the rest of the school year.

Of course with his friendship with Ron then, he had chosen to sit with him, so he didn't fancy returning to the class to have the constant glares and cold shoulders Ron would clearly shoot his way.

What subject he'd pick up in return, was a loss to him. While Ancient Runes interested him, he didn't' know if he'd excel in it – again, he decided he'd discuss it with his best friend.

The swishing of water behind him brought him out of his thoughts and he instantly turned and fought the urge to close his eyes like an embarrassed prude or run away – she'd surely laugh at him if he did. Or even worse, she'd think he didn't like what he saw and be ashamed when in reality, he loved what he saw.

"Are you alright?" She asked, spotting his red cheeks. Of course, she knew why his cheeks were red, but playing innocent and teasing him was something she found extremely enjoyable.

"Incredible," Harry muttered as his answer, and even when he thought about it hours later, he'd still blush as he was right now, "I – well, um, I feel incredible." He stuttered. He stuttered even more incoherently at her disappointed look, "You look incredible too – yeah, yes, um, you do."

Hermione blushed, "Well, thanks, Harry," she smiled, "Now, are you ready?"

He had forgotten the reason they were in the lake in the first place and almost hit himself for being such an idiot, but managed to hold himself back, he didn't want Hermione to think he was mental. "Oh, right – of course."

They each took deep breaths and with a glance at the other, they ducked their heads underwater. Under the silver lake was as beautiful as over it, he realised as he opened his eyes, he could see the bottom, as it wasn't as deep as he thought it was.

There were a lot of corals, each of them in large clumpy groups but they was scattered around the basin of the lake. What was even more spectacular to witness was the way they literally sparkled with silver light as they swayed back and forth in the current that the lake provided.

He turned to his best friend, who was smiling at the sight of his awe at the lovely view. He couldn't help it and laughed – with his mouth closed of course – at the sight of her hair that looked alive as it scarily floated above her. She looked like the woman in those stories, who turned people into stone when they looked at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing – not that she could say anything underwater. She motioned him to open the egg and he did as she asked. She swam towards him, just as the egg started to sing.

Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching ponder this;

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour, the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back  
...  
They sat back and quietly they ate the cookies Hermione had snuck out to get. She had gone under the cover of his invisibility cloak, and he wondered why he hadn't snuck out of his room under it in the first place. He had completely forgotten about the magical fabric that was once his father's.

Besides, he didn't even know that they could have used magic in the dome because the Ministry couldn't detect underage magic because of the magic that surrounded them. Hermione had also used magic to help them to dry off after getting out of the lake. And she had used a summoning charm to summon the cloak.

He figured though, that he should've guessed. Because Hermione had explained that they'd train here, obviously they were going to train with magic, even though they agreed they'd train without it as well.

As for the clue...

They had been discussing it for a while, and they were still going at it.

"So far, we understand that the task is going to be under the Black Lake," Hermione was explaining, and he was listening with apt attention, for he had to get every information he could, and Hermione was his only source for it and clarification. "What else we have to find out before we find a way to have you breathe underwater for apparently an hour, is the thing that you'd surely miss."

She looked at him expectantly and he knew she was awaiting the answer of what he would surely miss. He had been thinking about it ever since they swam out of the lake, and he had decided. He couldn't imagine a life without Hermione, he couldn't imagine her not by his side. If she were to leave him, stop being his friend, he would be torn apart. He'd miss her.

Hermione would be the person he'd surely miss.

It hadn't taken long for the realisation to hit him, for he wasn't as dense as he was before. But once he knew, he knew.

"You," he announced to her, "but I won't let them take you from me, allow them to put you in the bottom of there. Imagine the dangers in the deep dark abyss of the Black Lake! I can't allow you to be under there for an hour. You heard what the song said, too late, it's gone it won't come back! I won't allow that!"

"Harry," she said in a soothing tone, he could see that she was trying to calm him down, but he really couldn't. All he could think about was her at the bottom of the lake and something happening to her. Possibilities ran through his head, endless possibilities of all sorts of things that could happen to her. A merman stabbing her, the Giant Squid devouring her, her drowning. They all ran through his mind and he was frightened for her.

She was basically once more in danger because of him. Because he cared for her so much, because he'd sorely miss her, she'd be at the bottom of the lake held hostage.

"I'm extremely flattered, Harry," she said, "trust me, I am. But I've done some reading about the tournament in my free time, and I found out that there will be consequences to a champion if the task he or she is required to do isn't at least attempted. If you're right about what you're saying, then I'll be at the bottom of the lake." As he was about to retort, she placed her hand on his, "I'll be there for you to rescue me, Harry. You will, won't you?"

"Of course I will, Hermione. You must be possessed to think otherwise!" He said passionately.

"Good, so there's nothing to worry about there," She said, "I'll be the hostage for you to rescue. All we have to find out is how you're going to rescue me and what spells we're going to use to help you defend yourself from whatever's down there."

He sighed as he sat down and turned to her with regretful eyes, "You're okay with this?" He asked, incredulously "You're fine that you're going to be in danger again because of me?"

"I'm with you till the end, Harry Potter," she said with a wink, "Besides, I won't worry, because you're going to be there for me. You'll rescue me."

Harry nodded, more confidently this time, "I will."

"Good," she smiled, "but we'll continue tomorrow, I'm knackered."

At her words, his eyelids started to get droopy and he smiled tiredly at her, "Sure."

With the invisibility cloak over them, they escaped back to their rooms, but after a goodnight hug of course.  
...  
It was weird in Harry's perspective to enter back into Hermione's bedroom in the middle of the night when they had spent almost an hour or two inside of the Dome. Walking up back with a sleepy Hermione, he had asked her what she thought of his name for the place, and she said the Dome was just fine, as she hadn't thought about naming it ever since she found it.

The morning was just as beautiful as the one before, and he found himself just staring at the mountain he knew the Dome was at. It seemed just like the others, as though it wasn't full of magic and there wasn't internal summer next to it.

The entire rest of the house was apparently awake when he ventured down after freshening up and looking as presentable as he could, all of them helping in one way or the other to prepare breakfast. So he helped them as well, and couldn't help but be mesmerized by it all – it was such a family thing to do.

At the thought of that, he remembered his plan to make this Christmas one the Grangers and Mrs. Freeman wouldn't forget. What was wrong was that he didn't know how to do it. It was a dilemma that he brought up to his best friend a few hours later when they were once more doing their Christmas homework.

Today they were working on Transfiguration. Half of it at least, for Hermione, had agreed she'd help him on the unfair amount of work Snape – sorry, Professor Snape, as Hermione had insisted he called the Professor's name with respect because he was indeed, a professor – had given him.

If he was being honest, he'd say that Hermione thought that the unfair treatment here, was that she didn't get as much work as he had.

They had finished it, and in record time no less when he told her about his plan. She had rolled her eyes at first, sighing heavily, "Harry," she said ruffling his hair, it was such an un-Hermione thing to do, but he wasn't going to say that he minded, because he didn't. The little, intimate, touches they had were something he would always relish – it was something he treasured every time it happened.

"Harry," she repeated to get his attention with a concerned look, he seemed to have zoned out again – again! He had to get his daydreams about his best friend under control.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "go on."

"Right," she said with narrowed eyes, probably suspicious of his musings, he hoped not, "How many times do we have to tell you, Harry, that there is absolutely no reason for you to repay us?" She asked, but even as dense as he was, he could tell it was rhetorical, "But as your best friend, I have the privilege to know you inside and out and I can already tell that you're passionate about it, so I won't stop you. But if there's something I know that will work, it's this…"  
...  
The couch was amazing. Merlin that was a weird statement. But it was the truth nevertheless. As the Granger parents and Mrs. Freeman went out to do all sorts of adult stuff like groceries and other boring but still important things like that, he and Hermione laid back on the comfortable couch in the living room as they watched yet another round of movies.

His newfound addiction to them was getting to him and apparently influenced Hermione to watch a lot more. It appeared that she had brought some from home and they watched some of that, along with some of Mrs. Freeman's. Mrs. Freeman's movies were just romance and drama and he found himself torn whether to fall asleep or pay attention to different parts of the movie.

At the end of a particularly boring romance movie that had Hermione sniffling, he groaned not wanting to see another. The girl whose head was on his shoulder sat up immediately her eyes narrowed and her lips thin.

"Not because you're bored of them, means I am too, Potter," She said poking him in the chest with one of her dainty fingers. "I'll have you know that these movies are some of the most beautiful, most classical movies that have ever been filmed and broadcasted – some of them have even been made off journals and novels – plays even. I won't have you disrespect them!" She was now standing in front of him her hands on her hips, her head titled slightly so she could look at him because he was taller, he hadn't even noticed he had stood until now.

"What is it you have to say now?" She asked raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Um…" He really didn't have anything to say. He didn't know Hermione was that passionate about movies. In a moment where he just wanted to hastily do something other than showing her how much superiority she had over him, he tickled her.

The tickling and wrestling match ensued and soon they were chasing each other around the house each wanting to tickle the person who had just tickled them. It was a moment he never knew he wanted until he experienced it. It was a moment where the world fell away from under their feet and the dangers going falling with it and then it was just the two of them being the kids they were. It was a moment interrupted by a Ministry owl requesting their attendance to Sirius Black's trial and their testimony to what happened the night Sirius Black was in Hogwarts and a werewolf was loose.


	13. Chapter XIII - Finally Things Are Changing

Chapter XIII - Finally Things Are Changing

Waking up this morning, he had been met with not only his awesome view outside, but with a sense of excitement. He was ready in an instant, his clothing on, his breath fresh and his hair as neat as it could be, and soon he was downstairs in the Freeman's house waiting on the arrival of his best friend as they prepared to leave for the Leaky Cauldron, where they'd use the floo system to floo to the Ministry of Magic for the trial he had been dreaming of for months.

Dreaming, because there was a time when he believed fully that the only way Sirius would get a trial was if he dreamed of it. He could almost hop in excitement as he sat down on the couch in the living room wondering why Hermione was taking so long to get ready.

He wasn't only waiting on her, though, as the Granger parents would be the ones who'd be taking them to the Leaky Cauldron, making it more believable to Mrs. Freeman that they were just going shopping.

Hermione had been as excited as he was, squealing as she threw her hands around him, excited as the prospect that Sirius would finally be a free man. The trial hadn't happened as yet but he already knew that Sirius would be proven innocent as everything else – any other possibility – seemed too illogical to even think about.

He knew that the Wizarding World could be backwards many times, as they were so much different than the muggle world and the muggles systems and administration he had grown up in – but they simply couldn't be so dense that they didn't accept their testimonies and Sirius' confession that he wasn't responsible for the crimes placed under his name.

Hermione had explained to him the wonderful potion that would help them free Sirius in today's trial. A potion that had become his favourite as soon as he heard of it – the truth serum.

After Hermione's explanation of the potion, that was overly extensive as usual and as he admired, he understood that the truth serum was a potion that forced the individual who drank it to speak the truth about anything and everything that has been asked to him or her.

Sirius would definitely be free after today's trial, but there was still a problem Harry could think of, one he was too ashamed to bring up to anyone else – even Hermione.

While he loved Sirius and loved that there was now the possibility that he could spend the summers with him and not at the Dursleys, he wanted to spend the rest of his Christmas with the Grangers.

He really did, for his time here was the absolute best and he didn't want it to end. He felt that Sirius would think that him not wanting to spend Christmas with him when he was free again, would mean that he wasn't happy that he was free.

Harry was conflicted whether to tell Sirius what he wanted – and most likely sounding like a git – or spending Christmas with Sirius and sacrificing his time with the Grangers – making them think that he was ungrateful for everything they had done for him. The real reason he didn't want to leave here though - the reason that overpowered all the others - was because he didn't want to leave his best friend, in fact, he wanted to spend every second he could with her.

They had so many plans already. Concerning her parents, concerning their training for the tournament, and he had his own plans on confessing his feelings for her. But he wasn't sure if Sirius would think he was unhappy about his freedom if he wanted to stay with the Grangers.

He was in a right conflict right here, but he kept it to himself as he walked into the kitchen to help Mrs. Freeman with breakfast once more.

"Don't you look dashing, Harry," she said with her usual, elderly and teasing smirk as she scrambled the eggs in her frying pan. She was as lively as ever; and there were times when he had to remind himself that she was almost 70 years old, because the woman would usually act as though she was 30 or 40.

He was sure that the only convincing factor of her appearance that told anyone that she was old, was the wrinkles in her cheeks and the grey hair she was sporting quite stylishly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Freeman," he mumbled with a deep blush as he started to prepare the toast. He knew what everyone preferred, as he had cooked for them tons of times, so he had no problem preparing them as perfect as they liked it.

He blushed profusely as he buttered Mr. Granger's toast with his favourite jam, when he spotted Mrs. Freeman's smirk. The woman could flatter quite a lot for her age and he found himself blushing whenever she complimented him – for she was Hermione's grandmother and maybe Hermione saw him the same way.

She smiled kindly at him, her cheeks crinkling and forming firm dimples, as her eyes narrowed, "You aren't happening to be dressing up for a particular young lady are you?"

His cheeks were about to burn to their death from how much he was blushing and he willed himself not to chuckle nervously as he shook his head – not too fast so he wouldn't seem frantic – which he, admittedly, was.

He wasn't directly dressing up in a nice dress shirt and pants for Hermione, he wanted her to find him attractive yes, but at the same time he had to look presentable for a meeting such as this. He did indeed, find himself trying to look as best as possible for her. And he blushed in self-embarrassment as he remembered trying – and failing – to perform multiple push-ups last night before bed.

Luckily, Hermione hadn't seen that.

He felt as though he should prepared though, because soon they would be training down in the Dome. They hadn't gone back there ever since the day before yesterday, as they were simply enjoying Christmas and having tickle fights. But both were planning on returning to the magical area this evening after dark, so they could start their training.

He didn't know what they were going to do exactly when they returned to the Dome, for Hermione was the one preparing and organising their activities and exercises and she wouldn't let him look at her planning clipboard.

It was rather cute the way she would be defensive. He relished her blush last night when he had let his opinion slip to her.

He turned slightly to Mrs. Freeman who was watching him with an interested eye and a quirked eyebrow obviously awaiting his reply to her question.

"Of course not, Mrs. Freeman," he said and he was thankful to his voice that it hadn't betrayed his need to sound not squeaky and hadn't cracked his voice in a way that would have definitely been embarrassing. "Why would I want to do that?"

If possible, her eyebrow rose even further and she looked at him with an unimpressed expression. If she knew he was lying, she hadn't said anything. "I think the question here, Mr. Potter, is who you would do that for."

He stuttered as his face turned a deep shade of red. While the woman was a lovely lady, she had a way of making him feel very uncomfortable in situations. He took comfort in Hermione's words that he'd be used to it time, but he still couldn't help but feel uncomfortable about it all.

He wondered if Mrs. Freeman knew about his crush on her granddaughter. While she was an observant woman, spotting when he was trying to move his chair closer to Hermione's during dinner and winking at him, he didn't know if she had seen the way he acted when he was with Hermione.

He had tried his best after all, to hide it as much as he could – to not show that he had a crush on his best friend. And all along he hoped that no one found out.

It appeared from the way that she was looking at him that she did understand that he had feelings for her granddaughter. But she didn't seem as put out and angry as he had obviously expected her to be – if she looked as she was feeling anything, she looked as though she was feeling highly amused.

Mrs. Freeman didn't seem to be finished with her teasing though as she smirked even further at him with eyes sparkling with amusement. "I assume you're trying to impress her?" She asked as she looked behind him.

Harry blinked as he scarily turned around, but thankfully, Hermione wasn't directly behind him – she was coming down the stairs wearing a simple long-sleeved blue dress that didn't seem as simple as it was when she wore her because she looked so beautiful to him. In her hand, she carried their coats, the ones they had to wear as it was winter.

A cough behind him had him turning around slowly, and he was greeted by a smirking Mrs. Freeman, wearing the expression he had expected her to be wearing. She raised her already triumph eyebrow and he sighed.

He had never thought he'd tell Hermione's grandmother he had a crush on her granddaughter. In fact, he never thought that the first person he'd be telling probably his biggest secret thus far would be Hermione's grandmother. He was about to speak, trying his best to will his voice not to crack and stutter, when Hermione walked in.

"Good morning, Gram!" She said as she walked up to her grandmother and hugged her. She then turned to Harry and hugged him as well, her hug noticeably much longer than the one she gave her grandmother. He hugged her back, her intoxicating – in a good way – smell of perfume enough to knock him flat and her body warm enough to convince him he no longer needed the coat she handed him as she stepped back. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." She said as she looked between the two of them.

Her eyes were sparkling with amusement though, and he just hoped - hoped! - that she hadn't overheard his and her grandmum's conversation.

"Of course not, dear," Mrs. Freeman smiled at her granddaughter, but smirked at Harry as she winked at him, "Harry and I were just small talking as he helped me with breakfast," she answered.

"Right," Hermione droned sounding unconvinced. "Anyway, are you ready for shopping, Harry?" She asked.

Before he could speak, Mrs. Freeman huffed rather haughtily but yet, he could tell it was playful, "I still don't understand why you are all going shopping in this cold weather!" She said, "What I can't understand either, is why I'm not allowed to go."

Hermione rolled her eyes amusingly, "We told you, Gram, we're going shopping for presents. We already know you have ours – we need to get yours and everyone else's. We want to surprise you."

Mrs. Freeman rubbed her chin, "I do like surprises – just don't get me mittens like last year – nor should you give me another stitching set, I already have five! Maybe a ski board, I know a place up the road where –"

"Alright, Gram," Hermione said, "I'm borrowing Harry for a while."

"Okay," Mrs. Freeman sighed, "Just don't make too much noise – if you know what I mean." Mrs. Freeman smirked to herself as she watched the blushing teens disappear up the stairs. They were so smitten with each other, they just had to admit it.

...

Hermione pulled her best friend into her bedroom, both of them blushing from her grandmother's last teasing comment, and closed the door behind her with a simple tap of her elbow. While she adored Harry's confused look as to why she had brought him here in the first place, she knew he wanted answers.

Her answer was pulling the secret book that opened the secret passageway and Harry's confused look transformed into intrigue as he followed her down and into the Dome. His name for their secret area was justified, as she could almost see a glow of magic surrounding them, and it did indeed look like a dome.

She plumped down into a loveseat that was already there since their last session and Harry sat next to her, his presence warm and comforting.

She reached under the chair and pulled out her bag and then her clipboard, passing it to Harry. "I've finished preparing the schedule," she announced. She watched as his green mystic eyes traveled through their schedule, she already knew how it looked – she had written it after all.

They were going to come here twice a day, once in the morning and then in the afternoon. In the morning, they would be practicing muggle combat and exercises as much as their bodies could so they could become fit for the tournament and whatever other dangers would come their way. There was an entire half-hour dedicated to swimming as both wanted to be confident in their swimming skills for the second task.

Then in the afternoon, late in the evening after dinner, they would be practice magical combat. They'd learn different spells, both defensive and offensive, and all sorts of techniques in dueling and magical combat that could be used in the tournament and whenever they had to. Hermione had found a book in the library that listed tons of activities they could take part in that would help them greatly in magical combat.

The book, coincidentally, was a training guide for Aurors. So if they did the same training as Aurors could, they would be able to take on a dark wizard or two.

At the end of the schedule that detailed their activities for the day before the day they had to leave for Hogwarts, she placed a shy scribble that she hoped he agreed with. Theory of Animagus Transformation. "Like Padfoot?" He asked, "This is brilliant by the way – what you've done. I didn't expect any less."

She blushed prettily as she bowed her head down slightly, "Yes, Animagus. Remember we did it in our third year?" She asked, he nodded attentively, "Right, I suggest we learn whatever we can to defend ourselves. Other than the tournament, we don't really have dangers we have to fear. But after the visions you've been having and the way you and your scar is feeling, we can guess that Voldemort has something planned."

His eyebrows furrowed, "But I'm guessing we'll be unregistered," he said.

"About that, there's no other way to say it – yes. I think we have a reason to do so. Dumbledore and the other professor's aren't protecting us, they did nothing to help you when Ginny was brought into the chamber, and they did nothing when you were bullied when they believed you to be the Heir of Slytherin or when your name was taken from the Goblet. They aren't' protecting us like we've thought they were – I've done some looking back Harry, and it's true. The stone, McGonagall didn't help – coincidentally the tasks were things we did in our classes and things we're good at – the door opened to a simple Alahamora, Harry." She reasoned

She thought it would have taken a lot to convince Harry that the professors and Dumbledore more so weren't taking care of them, that whenever they were in danger, they never helped them, they either left them on their own, didn't believe them or put them into more danger, like Dumbledore sending them back in time. But as Harry sat there, his eyebrows furrowed in focus and thought, she could see that he was realising something.

Harry had definitely grown up from that scrawny kid who was so reckless and immature. Nowadays, she noticed that he was acting more maturely than she had ever imagined. While she knew that it was their idea to go further down into the traps in first year, it was to protect the stone. And if three first years were able to get past the traps placed there for the stone's protection, why would they even place those traps in the first place?

"You're right." He suddenly announced, "Dumbledore knows how much danger I'm in because of the tournament and because of Voldemort. But he hasn't done anything to help me. No one, except you, of course, has helped me. If they aren't going to look after our protection, I think it's time we looked after it ourselves."

…

Despite being in chains and having dementors loom over him darkly once more, he didn't feel as traumatised as he thought he'd feel. It was all just Remus' persuasion and the fact that he'd see his love, Amelia, once again that really pushed him to allow the Aurors to put him in these blasted chains and shackles once again.

He was in a room inside of Courtroom Nine, and they were multiple Aurors around him, wands out and ready to do something if he did something. Which he wouldn't. He guessed he understood why they were all nervous and alert: even though he knew he was innocent, they didn't. All they really knew about - all they thought they knew - was that he was a dark sorcerer who worked for the evilest wizard of the century and betrayed the parents of the Boy-Who-Lived to Voldemort himself.

He almost snorted, he'd never do that. Even under the Imperius curse, he'd use all he had inside of him not to betray Lily and James if he had been the secret keeper in the first place. It was all Pettigrew's fault. He closed his eyes as he fought the urge to hiss and rage at the thought of his former best friend.

The feeling of betrayal that ran through his veins when he thought of Peter was immense, and he was barely holding himself back from roaring in anger and frustration.

He didn't think they'd like that. The Aurors certainly wouldn't and would probably use that for an excuse to perform some spells and curses on him. And the Wizengamot members wouldn't like it because even if he was innocent – if he was proven innocent – they wouldn't want someone mental walking the streets after years in a place that could turn your head upside down.

They'd probably throw him into one of those muggle asylums. But even there they may not want him, for the muggles too knew about the false crimes that he had so-called committed, they'd still fear him even if it was broadcasted that he was innocent.

Lily said some muggles were like that, and he believed every word she said. She explained that muggles were afraid of what they can't understand – they get offensive and panicked – therefore doing rash things – when they encounter something they don't understand.

He didn't even understand himself right now, he didn't think the muggles would either. Signs of accidental magic when he was angry or depressed would probably have them sticking needles into him, trying to find out how he did it. He shuddered, he wished Lily had never shown him those alien movies.

Sweet, lovely, poor Lily. A wonderful sister to him, the one he never knew he wanted until they became siblings by her and James' relationship. She was amazing, the best person to comfort you whenever you were down, she always knew the right words to cheer you up. And she was the perfect match for James.

They were a lovely couple, and growing up, he had this frame of mind where he thought grown men didn't cry, but the day of their wedding, when they were so beautiful at the alter with large, loving smiles aimed at each other, he wept tons. Gallons, Remus had corrected later.

The smart one in the group, the one to keep them out of trouble and help to create the most creative and funny pranks. The quiet kid in school who was a mixture of brain and brawn. There were a lot of times when they didn't appreciate him for all his efforts, and there was a time before the full moon when he had snapped at them for being under appreciative for everything he did for the group. Sirius could say that it was basically a wake-up call for them, and it was the day the rest of them had decided to become Animagus to help him on the nights where the wolf inside of him came out.

It was safe to say that Remus had been so touched that he had cried a little, the tough exterior he had been putting on when they were becoming Animagus to show them he wasn't going to be pushed around, dropping in an instant as they shared a group hug.

It was such a girl thing to do, but then, he, James, and Peter had made an exception. It was those kinds of days where he understood more and more that being in that group, being a Muarader meant there were things you had to make an exception to when it came to your best friends, and they were times when you had to sacrifice for them because they were your brothers, your family.

But Peter Pettigrew clearly didn't see it that way, and the traitor had brought James and Lily's murderer to their doorstep in fear and so-called loyalty for the dark lord – for Peter's master. He could remember the day they all said that they'd sacrifice themselves for the other.

The day James said he was going to be a father was the day forward where he – only – was the exception to that rule because he was going to be a father and he was already a husband, and no one wanted young Harry Potter, the treasure to all the Marauders, to grow up without his father or mother.

No one but Pettigrew it seemed.

And now, his godson was parentless and it was Peter's fault. He could have been there for Harry when he lost his parents. But also thanks to Wormtail, he wasn't and was stuck in a cell in Wizarding Britain's most feared facility.

But that was going to change today, he thought with a deep breath as he looked forward with determined ideas. It was all going to change today and finally – finally – he would gain back the guardianship of his godson. He had dreamt of this day for years in his cell and his bed at Grimmauld.

He'd do what James hadn't gotten the opportunity to, he'd treat Harry like his own, he'd do whatever it took to make him happy, and judging from what he was hearing right now, Harry was happy - in the care of Hermione Granger.

He found out just yesterday when Amelia mentioned to Remus that the two were together because the owls she sent to invite them to the trial went the same direction and thanks to the tracking charms always placed on Ministry Owls.

Sirius had taken a liking to the young witch, as she was just as smart and brilliant as Lily was, and obviously was a perfect match for his godson. He could see the way she looked at him, eyes full of trust and love and he could see the way Harry relied on her, placed all of his trust in her. They were a perfect match and he hoped that unlike James, Harry would pull his head out of his arse far quicker than James had and ask her out.

If he knew Potter men though, which he did, he could say that they didn't do things halfway, and Hermione would be Harry's girlfriend sooner or later. He hoped that after he was proven innocent, which he knew he would be, he'd help Harry in one way or another to get his girl.

What he didn't know was if he was getting guardianship of Harry just yet, as he wanted to first go to a mental hospital – as loath as he was to admit it – to take care of the damage the Dementors had done to his brain. He would get guardianship of Harry, yes, it was just that he wouldn't be able to take care of him as yet.

Harry was staying at the Grangers this Christmas, and if he said he liked it there, Sirius wouldn't tell him to join him for Christmas. He'd probably just visit on Christmas day, where they could be together.

He looked around him, the Aurors were still alert as ever watching him attentively without actually showing it, but he knew they were, for he had been an Auror once as well, with his partner being James Potter of course.

His eyes were looking for a particular Auror though, his cousin named Nymphadora Tonks, who was a junior auror. He figured she wouldn't be here as she was a junior auror after all. He wondered if she had done the same treatment and training he had been through. Mad-Eye was truly a master at turning anyone into an Auror

Something was happening outside, as he could hear speaking coming through the doors despite the silencing charms that had been placed. He guessed he could still hear because of the hearing enhancement he got from being an Animagus.

An enhancement he found interesting and helpful but sometimes even annoying. He could still remember the day he had walked into the Potter Cottage before having to walk out directly after because his enhanced hearing had made him hear some really... disturbing things. If he could remember properly, it was about ten or nine months before Harry was born.

He closed his eyes once more and chuckled inwardly. He wished he could hear what was going on out there.

…

Remus Lupin knew what was going on because he was sitting in the room where all the business was happening. He felt extremely uncomfortable that he was in the chair of the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black – that he was in Sirius' rightful chair. But he knew that it was something he had to do. Besides, soon enough when Sirius would be freed, Sirius would officially, publicly claim his seat in the Wizengamot and his role as the Lord of House Black – so he was only here temporarily.

He felt oddly out of place as he sat there amongst high ranking Wizengamot members because he was never treated this way, he always treated as vermin, because, well, everyone shared the unjustified opinion that all werewolves were vermin.

But there he was as Regent of House Black sitting on a high and proud chair as everyone who walked past him gave him different looks – whether they be appraising, loyal, or forced nods of respect, they had one thing in common, they weren't looks of scorn and disgust.

There were dementors over them, he didn't know why but he figured everyone wanted safety, just in case Sirius Black wasn't innocent, which he was, but they didn't know that as yet. The only thing that seemed to light up the circular courtroom was the presence of Patronus' from those elite wizards who could cast one and the dim torches scattered neatly across the room.

He spotted Amelia in her usual seat and was pleased to say he had the privilege of getting her to break her stern appearance and receiving a smile from her. He could already imagine her glee when they announced Sirius a free man. He knew that the only thing stopping her from rushing up to her beloved and kissing – probably shagging – him right there was the Wizengamot members and the dementors.

They could wait until they arrived home.

The thing on the forefront of his mind was the image of Sirius' face when he was pronounced free when the chains and shackles fell off him and clanked on the ground as he grinned cheekily at every bastard that wanted him to stay in that rotten place. Remus was sure that he himself might have had to hold back himself from rushing up to his best friend and hugging the living daylights out of him.

Ever since Kreacher had apparated him into Sirius' place, he never knew poverty again as he had before. And day after day he'd be thankful that he had a wide variety of food he could eat thanks to Sirius and his house-elf – who was, surprisingly acting kinder to everyone. The once deranged house-elf he had only met a few times back in the last blood war when they used Grimmauld Place extensively as a base, was no longer there, and he seemed to be warming up to everyone – despite the still haunted look in his eyes.

He thought it had to do with the way Sirius was now treating him as well, the wizard he knew as his best friend was treating the house-elf better than Remus ever could imagine, unlike the Sirius who loathed every word that came out of the house elf's mouth fifteen years ago.

Sirius was giving him - the House-elf that is - galleons each month for everything he had done, Sirius would ask him to make clothes as giving him clothes would result in the elf's freedom and Sirius would even allow him to eat at the table.

It was peculiar to watch at first, for he never thought Sirius would treat the house-elf like that, but after a while, he'd gotten used to it. Besides, he was in some ways, similar to the house-elf, they had both received underestimation and disgust because of their titles as magical creatures. So he could relate and sympathise.

He looked around him. Lord McCallum looked as pompous as ever; Remus remembered the man when he was a seventh-year prefect when Remus had just enrolled into Hogwarts. The then young adult always wanted to be with Sirius, and as Remus grew older and understood the Wizarding World more extensively than his parents had explained, he understood that that the now Lord McCullum just wanted to show everyone that he was friends with their Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

There were many instances when he understood that the Wizarding World – at least Wizarding Britain – was backward and old – and sketchy. It seemed that all most individuals – especially the pompous Purebloods – cared for was their public image and influence and how many galleons they had in their Gringotts bank account.

Remus himself had been grown up in the Wizarding World, but his parents made him mostly unaware of it because of his disease, because they didn't want to endanger anyone, and didn't want him to be endangered if anyone found out about him and his wolfy abilities.

So when he had entered Hogwarts, he was just as impressed and awed by the castle and magic as every other Muggleborn was. He wasn't a Muggleborn though, nor was he a Pureblood of course. He was a half-blood and more so, a half-breed.

His father had been a half-blood himself, running around Wizarding Britain, hiding from the people who wanted to murder people like him when he met his mother, an unfortunate Muggleborn who was in the same position as he was. They talked, they dated, they kissed, they married, they shagged and they had him. In an unfortunate time: when the Dark Lord was rising more powerful than he was when his parents had found each other.

It was quite unfortunate that his village had been the one Death Eaters had chosen to attack and raid, and possibly murder and rape. What was more unfortunate was that one of the death eaters that had come to attack was a werewolf. One of the most powerful werewolves, whose bite was much more powerful than his howl.

He had been in his bedroom. Mother had been casting enchantments just outside and father was trying to help the other villages fend off who they could while staying close to the house to protect them. But Fenrir Greyback didn't use the front door – nor the back door in fact – he used the windows.

He had been bitten before anything could have been done, and Greyback was gone with a smirk before mother or father could have helped him. They had been extremely supportive of him and didn't let his Lycanthropy get into the way of their relationship.

But even though their support was the absolute best, he still had problems with his self-esteem. So when he made friends with Sirius Black and James Potter, and later on, Peter Pettigrew, he was afraid if they weren't going to be friends with him anymore if they found out he was a werewolf.

In future years, he had kept it a secret, until he could no more and they had found out. But they didn't mind, James even said it was cool. When the day came when they had rowed because of how they didn't appreciate him, they had done something that made him cry.

He still couldn't believe that they had gone against Wizarding laws and became unregistered Animagus, just so they could help him with his furry little problem, as James had put it.

He was thankful to them, and even though he knew they wouldn't have been friends if he hadn't come to Hogwarts, he was well aware that Albus Dumbledore only allowed him that opportunity because he wanted a spy. He sighed silently as he watched with a small secret smile as his two favourite students entered, he just wanted Sirius to be free and for Harry to have his godfather back.

…

They were in the Granger's car a few minutes later, chatting animatedly about anything and everything. The Granger parents had been very supportive of the idea of them going to the trials, and shared their opinion of what they thought of the whole ordeal.

"From what we're hearing, your godfather sounds like a wonderful man," Jean said, "It's good that the two of you saved him in your third year and now he's getting a trial to prove his innocence – though I still don't understand why you two had to do it."

A tense silence hovered over the car as John drove past building after building as though no one wanted to hear or say the answer. After they said goodbye to the Granger parents – who'd be doing some shopping to make their excuse more buyable, Harry asked Hermione a question that had been nagging him to be asked.

"Your parents know?" He asked, but regretted it. "Sorry. I mean, they should know about what goes on in your life – I just thought they'd be angrier at me after the dangers I've put you in."

She leveled him with a short glare but smiled nevertheless, "Again, Harry, I chose to be put in those dangers. And besides, they don't know everything. They only know a short, edited version of what happens. They think that in first year, you only had gone down for the stone, that I only helped you with a riddle. I told them absolutely nothing about second year, for I would be in a muggle school right now, and they think that in third year, we just saved Sirius from being executed because he was innocent."

"Hermione –"

"Don't say sorry, Harry," she quirked her eyebrow as they arrived at the floo fireplace. "It's best if they don't know."

They arrived at the Ministry a minute later and was met by an auror who seemed to be their escort. The Auror in question confirmed their suspicions. "Name's Nymphadora Tonks," she said, "Madame Bones, my boss, has asked me to escort you to the courtroom."

They followed her of course, as this was their first time in the Ministry. The owls, the flying paper airplanes that Hermione explained to be memos and short notes and messages, the wizards and witches walking around, it was all very nice - especially the way the building was built.

"My cousin's the one in the chains today," the auror shrugged, her pink hair swishing as she turned to them, "Always knew he was innocent; hear you two are the reason he's still alive."

"You're related to Sirius?" Harry gaped.

"Aye," she said, quite proudly. And Harry couldn't believe he'd meet another person he was basically related to. "sure am."

Hermione was the one who answered her question, "Yeah, we did what we could."

They arrived at the Courtroom and entered, sitting in the guest area as everyone around them got comfortable. Both Harry and Hermione ignored Dumbledore's gaze and shocked expression as they chatted silently among each other, about anything that could distract them for the time being.

It was a few minutes later, that the trial of Sirius Black, finally started.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, thank you for reading. 
> 
> This story's idea was from a challenge on the HMS Harmony Discord. The idea and everything are all theirs but this story's plot and work are all mine. Of course, I am not the owner of any of the characters, that right goes to the one and only J.K Rowling. I WILL NOT REPEAT THIS, so please remember that. Reviews are of course, welcome.
> 
> The event is CHRISTMAS WITH HARMONY joint with CHRISTMAS FANART CHALLENGE and WRITING FEST!


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